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You sat on the coffee table, one leg pulled up so you could rest your chin on it and the other folded underneath you, and stared at the wall in front of you. Working the case had already put you through a number of mood swings- at times you felt normal, letting your brain do what it did best was enough of a distraction, and others you felt alone or angry, unable to ignore the gapping hole in your life. John had grown used to you going from contemplative and calm to abruptly yelling or disappearing into Sherlock’s room with a door slam over the past week and a half. He could loosely say you were friends now as you chatted casually when you needed to rest your mind and you often cooked or made tea for the both of you.
Right now, looking up at your failure of a wall as you went over the case again in your head, you were teetering in between screaming and just plain sobbing- you were missing something and your entire being told you that with Sherlock there that wouldn’t have been the case. John had looked up from his laptop when you stopped humming, knowing that it meant something was about to happen with you, and was more then surprised when you softly asked, “Was he happy, John?”
He stopped what he was doing to look over at you more seriously, you hadn’t said a word about your brother since your outburst when Mycroft was over, “I think he was, (F/n).”
You continued to stare at the wall for a minute and then let out a heavy sigh, “We were so angry with each other when I left… He didn’t want me to go.”
He got up to sit next to you on the coffee table, seeing the tears beginning to shine in your eyes as you rested your forehead on your knee, “The last thing I said to him was that I didn’t need him- that I could make my own decisions… but I do n-need him. I-I always n-needed h-him.”
A few tears had started to run down your face and you were quick to wipe them away as you got up to lock yourself in his room again but John stopped you, catching your arm, “You don’t have to be alone in this (F/n).”
You looked up into his blue eyes, firmly stating, “Yes I do. It’s my fault. If I hadn’t gone- If I had stayed- It’s my fault he’s dead.”
John floundered for a moment and it was long enough for you to pull away and slam the door to your room, leaving him alone and slightly lost in the living room. He sank down in his chair to hold his head in his hands feeling angry, not at you but at your brother for doing this to you- for doing this to him, and that quickly turned into his own wave of sadness.
John Watson let the tears creep down his face because without his best friend he was lost and with you here it was like losing him all over again. He quickly shook his head, wiping his eyes, and went back to his computer to do what he did best- blog.
Will it Ever End?
It’s been seven months but it feels like just yesterday I was watching him fall. I don’t know how much longer I can take this. She’s driving me up the wall and I doubt she even knows it… it’s not really her fault either. I don’t think two people could have been put in a worse situation than this. We’re complete strangers at different stages of grief over the same man stuffed into a flat that seems to be growing smaller by the minute. How can I help her like everyone keeps telling me I should when I’m only barely keeping it together myself?
His thoughts were interrupted just after he hit post by a quiet and slightly distraught voice, “John?”
Looking up, his eyes found you standing hesitantly in the doorway as you rubbed at your nose in an attempt to stop the sniffling, your eyes rimmed with red from crying. You opened your mouth to say something but quickly shut it, chewing on your lip before trying again, “I’m sorry. This can’t be easy for you either… and you’ve been so patient with me.”
Knowing that must have been hard for you to admit, he sighed and joined you in the doorway to take one of your hands up in his, “It’s alright (F/n)… but I wish you wouldn’t shut yourself away. It’s all right to be sad- to need other people. Let me be there for you.”
You hated everyone and everything- even yourself- but you couldn’t stand being alone anymore. The theories in your head that resulted from staying that way were all awful and dark. Frankly you didn’t care if any of them happened… but if it got bad enough you’d have to deal with Mycroft and that you cared about. Thinking it over for a second, you resignedly nodded, “Okay… I’ll try.”
“That’s all anyone can ask of you (F/n)… You tell me what you need and I’ll do my best to help you.”
You gazed into his eyes for a moment and then looked down at the ground, seeming a little conflicted before raising your eyes to look at him, “Would you- c-could I…”
John squeezed your hand reassuringly, offering you a small smile, “It’s okay. Tell me.”
You studied the floor for a moment and then softly breathed, “Can I hug you?”
There was no pause between your request and him enveloping you in a hug and for the first time since you’d gotten home you returned it, burying your nose deeply into his shoulder as you wrapped your arms tightly around him. It was exactly what you needed. After living your entire life deeply connected to another person being alone now was overwhelming and some form of human contact, not matter how small, helped you more than John would ever know.
At the same time it was what John needed as well. He rested his cheek against your shoulder and tightened his grip on you, weeks of frustration melting away. You were going to let him help and maybe… just maybe- you would both be okay.
The first true act of comfort you’d allowed to penetrate your sadness also managed cleared your mind and you startled John when you pulled away very quickly to jump on to the couch, “How could I have been so stupid… I just assumed it was a pill.”
He gaped at you for a second as you scrutinized the things pinned on the wall and then let out a soft surprised chuckle- your mind would always be a mystery to him just as Sherlock’s had been. It was good to see you at least a little fired up… he’d only seen it happen once or twice and it was so slight that it was almost undetectable but when it happened it was like seeing your real self shine through all the pain.
Your phone rang and you waved a hand at John for him to answer it, causing him to roll his eyes, as had become reflex from his time with Sherlock, and pick it up so you could continue with your thoughts. Lestrade’s voice rang through the receiver and John nodded, humming, “Alright. I’ll tell her,” as you leaped from the couch to grab your coat, stealing the next words from his mouth, “There’s been another murder. Tell him not to touch the body.”
John huffed and did as you asked while grabbing his own coat and following you out of the flat as you took the stairs two at a time, humming softly as you mulled over your most recent thoughts. Between John and the case you just might be able to get through another week without locking yourself away from the world… right now that was all you could ask for.
Right now, looking up at your failure of a wall as you went over the case again in your head, you were teetering in between screaming and just plain sobbing- you were missing something and your entire being told you that with Sherlock there that wouldn’t have been the case. John had looked up from his laptop when you stopped humming, knowing that it meant something was about to happen with you, and was more then surprised when you softly asked, “Was he happy, John?”
He stopped what he was doing to look over at you more seriously, you hadn’t said a word about your brother since your outburst when Mycroft was over, “I think he was, (F/n).”
You continued to stare at the wall for a minute and then let out a heavy sigh, “We were so angry with each other when I left… He didn’t want me to go.”
He got up to sit next to you on the coffee table, seeing the tears beginning to shine in your eyes as you rested your forehead on your knee, “The last thing I said to him was that I didn’t need him- that I could make my own decisions… but I do n-need him. I-I always n-needed h-him.”
A few tears had started to run down your face and you were quick to wipe them away as you got up to lock yourself in his room again but John stopped you, catching your arm, “You don’t have to be alone in this (F/n).”
You looked up into his blue eyes, firmly stating, “Yes I do. It’s my fault. If I hadn’t gone- If I had stayed- It’s my fault he’s dead.”
John floundered for a moment and it was long enough for you to pull away and slam the door to your room, leaving him alone and slightly lost in the living room. He sank down in his chair to hold his head in his hands feeling angry, not at you but at your brother for doing this to you- for doing this to him, and that quickly turned into his own wave of sadness.
John Watson let the tears creep down his face because without his best friend he was lost and with you here it was like losing him all over again. He quickly shook his head, wiping his eyes, and went back to his computer to do what he did best- blog.
Will it Ever End?
It’s been seven months but it feels like just yesterday I was watching him fall. I don’t know how much longer I can take this. She’s driving me up the wall and I doubt she even knows it… it’s not really her fault either. I don’t think two people could have been put in a worse situation than this. We’re complete strangers at different stages of grief over the same man stuffed into a flat that seems to be growing smaller by the minute. How can I help her like everyone keeps telling me I should when I’m only barely keeping it together myself?
His thoughts were interrupted just after he hit post by a quiet and slightly distraught voice, “John?”
Looking up, his eyes found you standing hesitantly in the doorway as you rubbed at your nose in an attempt to stop the sniffling, your eyes rimmed with red from crying. You opened your mouth to say something but quickly shut it, chewing on your lip before trying again, “I’m sorry. This can’t be easy for you either… and you’ve been so patient with me.”
Knowing that must have been hard for you to admit, he sighed and joined you in the doorway to take one of your hands up in his, “It’s alright (F/n)… but I wish you wouldn’t shut yourself away. It’s all right to be sad- to need other people. Let me be there for you.”
You hated everyone and everything- even yourself- but you couldn’t stand being alone anymore. The theories in your head that resulted from staying that way were all awful and dark. Frankly you didn’t care if any of them happened… but if it got bad enough you’d have to deal with Mycroft and that you cared about. Thinking it over for a second, you resignedly nodded, “Okay… I’ll try.”
“That’s all anyone can ask of you (F/n)… You tell me what you need and I’ll do my best to help you.”
You gazed into his eyes for a moment and then looked down at the ground, seeming a little conflicted before raising your eyes to look at him, “Would you- c-could I…”
John squeezed your hand reassuringly, offering you a small smile, “It’s okay. Tell me.”
You studied the floor for a moment and then softly breathed, “Can I hug you?”
There was no pause between your request and him enveloping you in a hug and for the first time since you’d gotten home you returned it, burying your nose deeply into his shoulder as you wrapped your arms tightly around him. It was exactly what you needed. After living your entire life deeply connected to another person being alone now was overwhelming and some form of human contact, not matter how small, helped you more than John would ever know.
At the same time it was what John needed as well. He rested his cheek against your shoulder and tightened his grip on you, weeks of frustration melting away. You were going to let him help and maybe… just maybe- you would both be okay.
The first true act of comfort you’d allowed to penetrate your sadness also managed cleared your mind and you startled John when you pulled away very quickly to jump on to the couch, “How could I have been so stupid… I just assumed it was a pill.”
He gaped at you for a second as you scrutinized the things pinned on the wall and then let out a soft surprised chuckle- your mind would always be a mystery to him just as Sherlock’s had been. It was good to see you at least a little fired up… he’d only seen it happen once or twice and it was so slight that it was almost undetectable but when it happened it was like seeing your real self shine through all the pain.
Your phone rang and you waved a hand at John for him to answer it, causing him to roll his eyes, as had become reflex from his time with Sherlock, and pick it up so you could continue with your thoughts. Lestrade’s voice rang through the receiver and John nodded, humming, “Alright. I’ll tell her,” as you leaped from the couch to grab your coat, stealing the next words from his mouth, “There’s been another murder. Tell him not to touch the body.”
John huffed and did as you asked while grabbing his own coat and following you out of the flat as you took the stairs two at a time, humming softly as you mulled over your most recent thoughts. Between John and the case you just might be able to get through another week without locking yourself away from the world… right now that was all you could ask for.
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Mycroft x Reader - Part 9
You awoke the next morning in an empty bed to the sound of clattering from the kitchen. Getting up from the bed, you yawned loudly and stretched, wrapping your dressing gown around you. Sauntering over to the kitchen you saw Mrs Hudson preparing a cup of tea and a plate of toast.
“Morning Mrs H!” You said causing the old woman to jump a little but then smile as she saw it was you.
“Good morning dear! How are you feeling today?” She asked stirring the milk into the tea.
“A little bit tired and sore, but I’ll survive.” You smiled, leaning against the doorframe. “Where are John and Sherlock?&rdq
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Brothers: Sherlock x Reader x Mycroft (part 6)
You remained on the chair for seemed like an eternity. Unable to think you focussed on your breathing, in and out in and out in and out. The front door slammed against the door frame and you knew Sherlock had returned. Pulling the towel tightly around your shoulders you left the front room in search of Mycroft. He was sitting on one of the wooden kitchen chairs deeply engrossed in a file but he looked up on hearing your footsteps.
“Please just hear me out. That’s all I want.”
Mycroft nodded and closed the file yet you did not move from the doorway.
“I lost everything. My house, my family all of my stability but he f
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Sherlock (BBC) x Reader Part 3
Sherlock tried to focus on the mission at hand - getting ___ a present, but Detective Inspector Lestrade had just called announcing there was a case they needed him for. "What do you mean you can't come?" Lestrade asked over the phone. "I'm busy."
"What could possibly be more important, Holmes?" Sherlock smiled, on the inside of course. He continued walking, to no where in particular. "Christmas shopping."
Lestrade sighed in disbelief, "Real-" Sherlock pushed 'end' and shoved the phone back into his pocket. "I prefer texting," he mumbled to himself. After several minutes of walking, his phone rang.
'Where'd you go? (First
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INTENSE... Once the case is over and you and John have bonded some more we'll have some Sherlock point of view and lets just say he is not happy with Mycroft at all. Anyways... John hugs. Always good.
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John hugs are the best kind of hugs, especially because he's always wearing a jumper. Hugs are always better with jumpers.