“Mrs. Hudson are you almost ready?” You called over your shoulder as you stepped into your red stilettos.
“Oh yes just one second dear!” She called as you heard her rummaging through a jewelry box. You turned back to the mirror again taking in your appearance when Sherlock and John came bounding d
“Ugh why are you here?” she said looking at Sherlock.
“Lestrade wanted me to solve a case, seeing as you were obviously no help with it,” Sherlock said with a smirk.
“Well we can’t all be psychopaths now can we? Besides you aren’t as important as you think really. You’re just Lestrade’s pet freak,” she said harshly. There was that word again. Freak. You hated when she called Sherlock that, the way she spat the word at him with such malice and hate.
“You know Sally,” you said releasing Sherlock’s hand and stepping in front of h
“You’ve already eaten half the tub, love. It’s bad for you.”
You let out a pathetic whine, “Johhnn.”
Your brother didn’t even look up from his computer, “Give her back the ice cream, Sherlock.”
“You know as well as I do that that much sugar is not good for a person’s system, she-“
He cut Sherlock off, looking up with an entirely unamused expression, “Just give it back.”
John opened his mouth to respond but caught a glimpse of you and let out a heavy sigh, shooting Sherlock a glare as he moved to crouch in front of you. You’d started to
It was snowing outside as you ran from the cab to the door of 221B Baker Street. Upon opening the door Mrs. Hudson greeted you with a smile. Smiling back, you made your way up the stairs to where the boys were.
“Ah, _____ would you be a darling and make sure that Sherlock doesn’t ruin my wall anymore?” Mrs. Hudson asked. Looking back from halfway up the stairs yo
You lugged the shopping bags with you until you finally reached the flat that you shared with your best friend John and his roommate, Sherlock. You’d been living with them for about 2 months now and you were never bored with the antics that were going on.
‘Thank god you’re back (y/n), I need to go out. Anywhere but here, just make sure he doesn’t blow the place up or something,’ John sighed as he indicated to Sherlock who was lying on the sofa curled up and facing the back of it. John threw his coat on, kissed your cheek and ran out the door before you could even speak.
You sighed and began to move into the kitchen with your shopping. For once there were no experiments or body parts in the kitchen. When you emerged minutes later, Sherlock was still sulking on the sofa.
‘What was that all about?’ you asked quietly, sitting down in Sherlock’s chair. He shifted slight
You were the top forensic blood spatter analyst in the UK and it kept you rather busy and alone most of the time. Honestly that was how you preferred it, the living were cruel and overly complex and the dead were quiet and, frankly, simple.
When your jazzy ringtone broke the silence in your lab, you scooted your chair to where it was with a kick of your legs and then answered it, “(F/n) (L/n), h-how may I help you?”
Lestrade’s voice rang out on the other end with the words that you both hated and loved to hear, “(L/n) You are needed at a crime scene Asap.” He gave you a location, y
“So this man is innocent, and was framed by his brother so that he would be sent to prison?” John asked Sherlock, making sure he understood correctly.
“Yes, it’s very obvious,” Sherlock said as he began playing a slow tune on his violin.
“That’s terrible,” John stated, “doing that to your own brother.”
“His brother was probably the favorite,” you replied from Sherlock’s chair, taking a bite of an apple Mrs. Hudson had given you earlier.
“Favorite? What does that have to do with anything?” Sherlock remarked.
“Well everyone has favorites, whether they admit it or not,” you replied. “And that favoritism often leads to jealously, especially when one comes from a rich family like that man did.”
“Not everyone has favorites,” Sherlock scoffed, still playing his violin.
“Oh, you’ll love him, [Name], he’s just like you. Sarcastic. Acidic. Cynical.” Mary said, shooting you a look. You chuckled and settled into your seat. For Mary, you would give this a chance.
“This is hardly necessary, John. I could find my own dates if I wanted them.” Sherlock insisted as John led him to the cab. John only sighed heavily and pushed Sherlock into his seat.
“You’ve proven to be interested in females, Sherlock, and in Mary’s friends. Just do this one night. If you don’
“I can’t stop now Sherlock. I just unlocked a new mission!” You didn’t even turn away from the TV when you answered Sherlock and that made him even more annoyed than he already was.
“That’s not important now turn it off,” he demanded.
“Sherlock there is dragon burning down villages. I think that qualifies as important.”
“(y/n) its four in the morning and you’ve been there for nearly seventeen hours. It normally wouldn’t matter but seeing as you haven’t slept for forty-eight hours you need to stop.”
“Just five more minutes.”
“You haven’t even been blinking, that’s going to dry out your eyes,” he said as he walked to your side.
“Of course I’ve been blinking, don’t be ridiculous,” you said brushing off his words.
“(y/n) look at me,” he ordered.
“Ugggh what Sherlock?
Sherlock continued to be an annoying know-it-all. John kept on blogging. And you were often at 221B. It was more of a home than your actual flat.
Except for the nightmares. They never seemed to get better. Only worse and more vivid as time went on.
What if Sherlock didn't get to you in time?
What if the crazy man had the chance to keep you?
Would he have blown you up? Or, something much, much worse?
These were things the night terrors focused on. Picking out one of the fears of your mind and conjuring it up into a 'reality'.
You never dare told John or Sherlock, though you were sure with the way the Holmes boy looked at you that he knew. How could he not? The detective was fantastic at noticing your details.
Currently, the three of you were lounging about in the flat. Sherlock in his chair with his silly violin, John in his with tea and you sitting off to the side with tea of your own.
In the flat of 221b, a certain army doctor and consulting detective were grumbling and complaining. The weather was a quite a bit hotter than usual, and with no air conditioner the heat inside was merely growing. They were very irritated with the heat, but even more irritated with you because you were paying no attention to it.
“Look at her sitting there so calm and complacent, acting as if it doesn’t feel like a furnace in here,” Sherlock said to John.
“Sitting right here Sherlock, I can hear you,” you said as you kept your eyes on your phone.
“Well I’m glad you can hear me because I would like to point out that you are being ridiculous,” he responded.
“You’re the one with a bag of frozen peas on your head,” you retorted.
“They’re not peas they’
You had disappeared to the bathroom to be sick for the third time today, covering your mouth and running before you had the chance to be sick all over the lovely clean carpet that Mrs Hudson just finished cleaning.
There could only be two possibilities as to why you were vomiting so much; one, mother nature was deciding to be a bitch as per usual. Or two, you were pregnant.
And you were hoping it was the first option.
Not that you wouldn't be happy that you were pregnant, with Sherlock's child of all things.
You just didn't feel like you were ready to bring a child into this world, you weren't even sure if Sherlock even wanted to bring a child into this strange yet wonderful world.
You weren't sure if Sherlock even liked children for that matter.
You threw your head into the toilet allowing whatever you had for breakfast this morning return.
You were thankful that your hair was in a loose bun.
"(Y/N)? Are you okay?" John asked, standing my
John chuckled from across the table, reading his own section of paper as you worked on the Sudoku puzzle in yours. It was a habit you’d both gotten into since you’d moved into their spare bedroom, you and John both got up at reasonable hours, switched off making breakfast, and then sat and split the paper.
He always read the news and you went for the crosswords and Sudoku, you liked the challenge and, while the crossword often went unfinished, you were fairly good at Sudoku. It kept your mind sharp for what ever challenges Sherlock was sure to get the three of you into.
You started scanning again, writing in a succession of numbers the nine had made apparent
“Sherlock? Where’s the butter?”
“I used it for an experiment.”
“And you couldn’t have told me that before I went to the grocery so I could get more?”
You let out a little growl at the ceiling, “I’ll just have to ask-“
“I used all Mrs. Hudson’s as well.”
You slumped against the counter. All you had wanted was a grilled cheese. Just toasty bread and melted cheese. But of course in this household that was asking too much.
Two weeks. Two weeks you’d wanted a grilled cheese and every time you went to make one something came up. Needless to say that at this point the craving was almost unbearable.
John came into the kitchen to find you looking at your ingredients with the most dejected look on your face. You looked like a kicked puppy and it was damn near heartbreaking. He wrapped an arm around your shoulde
In all the time he’d known you, there had never been anything between you beyond a friendship that for some reason worked better than most and was stronger than he ever could have anticipated. It was something that had happened without him ever realizing, that friendship, but right now, sitting in his chair watching you making tea, he wished there had been more- not really for the love but to have a deeper connection, to escape from the loneliness he’d discovered in his heart.
He gave a fleeting smile at the skull still on the mantle before observing the rest of the fl
You were soaked and shivering, as you trudged down the street towards the flat where John and Sherlock were waiting for you to come back from work. There hadn’t been any time for you to duck under an awning before you were drenched by the sudden down pour, the sky seemingly dumping a bucket of water on you, and what was little more water when you were already wet. Your teeth had just begun to chatter when the rain suddenly wasn’t hitting you anymore.
“You are going to catch a cold running about in weather like this my dear.” Came a familiar voice and you looked up to find Mycroft softly smiling down at you, holding his umbrella over your head.
Despite your current state,
“He's going to be here soon. And he's coming with case pictures. That should cheer you up.”
“No, George. I don't belong here. I belong out there with him. He needs me. I don't belong in here.”
The old man paused, nodding slowly with a sad expression. “I know you don't. Why do you think it's so hard for me to come in? Still do it, though.”
“It's because you have me. You wouldn't still be here if I was. It's my fault.”
“No, it's your mom's fault..”
You snarled in disgust at the mere mention of the reason why you were in here.
“(Name.)” There was a knock. A smile erupted on your face at the sound of the beautiful man's voice. George immediat
John was making a much needed pot of tea, Sherlock was reading a book in his chair, and you were sitting in Sherlock’s lap.
You rested your head in the area between the neck and shoulder and closed your eyes, a small smile forming. Whenever Sherlock turned a page, he would move his hand to run his fingertips up and down your arm before returning it to holding the book.
Your smile broadened. While you loved the consulting detectives enthusiam and high intellect when he was on a case, you also loved it when Sherlock was calm and showed a gentle, romantic affection towards you.
Then the moment was ruined when Mycroft walked through the door.
“Good morning John, (name), Sherlock,” the older Holmes greeted.
Title: Stay Awake
Pairing: Older Brother!Sherlock Holmes x Teen!Sister!Reader (Family)
Fandon: Sherlock (BBC)
Word Count: 1,095
“(Y/N), you need to be going to bed....” You knew that voice. It wasn't the voice of your brother but the voice of his flatmate. John stood above you, looking down at you. He had his hands on his hips and you had to keep from laughing at how feminine he looked. He was acting like your mother.
“You know that I don't need much sleep, John.” You looked up at him, your head numbing slightly as the blood rushed to your cranium. You were lying upside down on the couch, a rubix cube in your hand. You had already solved it five times and each time you seemed to solve it quicker than the last. You then went to go and ask John if he would mess it up again. He sighed but did as you asked. Since it was such a trivial task, he would do it since you were only fifteen. Now if Sherlock asked, it would be a different story.
In fact, you were below average human intelligence.
This of course left you as a laughing stock for both Mycroft and Sherlock when the three of you were children. Every desperate attempt you made in spending time with you brothers ended up with them making jokes about how much of an “idiot” you were. Not that they usually were so blunt with their words. Instead they used some fancier word, or a hidden meaning behind some philosophic conversation. If you remember correctly, the only time the two of them bonded was while mocking you. Your mother always tried to cheer you up and scold the two boys, but it hardly ever worked.
However now as adults, Mycroft had grown up, even if it