Sherlock x Reader

Summary:  Sherlock has always had bad ideas… but this one is just ridiculous. After a spider bite renders the consulting detective unconscious, Y/N has to deal with her partner’s carelessness.  

▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️

“I don’t think this is a good idea…”

Sherlock turned to Y/N and grinned. “Well, it’s not the worst, either. How else will we substantiate the accused’s defence?”

“Allow me to rephrase,” Y/N began tensely. “This is by far the most ludicrous idea that you’ve ever had! And that’s saying a lot for you, Sherlock Holmes!”

“It’s perfectly sane,” he assured. “Even so, ludicrosity is the essence of methodical study!”

Sherlock and Y/N stood in St Bartholomew’s Hospital laboratory as they investigated their latest case which John had already dubbed ‘The Spider’s Web’. A woman, accused of killing her neighbour denied the charge, pleading innocent after an alleged spider bite incapacitated her throughout the thirty minutes in which the murder was surmised to have occurred. 

Now, Sherlock and Y/N hovered over an illuminated examination table, where the case’s greatest piece of evidence awaited testing… the spider. 

Y/N looked down at the arachnid crawling in the mason jar and cringed. “What are you trying to prove here, Sherlock?” she asked. “That you’re a reckless investigator with an unhealthy disregard for his own safety? We already know that!”

Sherlock looked up at her and quirked a brow, unimpressed. “If the spider bites me, and I blackout for a half hour, we’ll be able to prove the accused’s story. If I’m completely unaffected, we’ll know she’s lying and the Crown prosecutor can present my findings in court. Really Y/N, keep up.”

“Couldn’t we just ask Molly to run a toxicology test?”

“I like to be thorough,” Sherlock shrugged. 

“You like to be showy is what you mean…” Y/N mumbled to herself. 

“What was that?”

“Nothing.”

Sherlock gave one last pointed look before pulling out a pocket watch and handing it to Y/N. “The moment I show any signs of wooziness or sickness after the bite, I need you to start taking time. Thirty minutes, Y/N. Remember that.”

“Sherlock, this is so dangerous!”

“Nonsense,” he scoffed. “I’ve done my research and gone through the preliminary analyses. I am absolutely convinced that nothing will happen. The accused is clearly lying, I know that to be a fact!”

“What if something does happen?” Y/N pressed.  

“I’m never wrong,” Sherlock insisted. “At worst, It’ll be a small nip. I’m sure of it.”

Y/N rubbed a hand down her face and sighed in defeat. “Alright Sherlock. If you’re sure.”

“I’m positive.”

Y/N gestured towards the waiting spider and looked at Sherlock deliberately. “Go ahead,” she invited. 

He made a move towards the mason jar but stopped short. “No kiss for good luck?” he inquired.

“I thought you said that nothing would happen.”

“Well yes, but it would be nice.”

Y/N narrowed her eyes and Sherlock stifled a laugh. “No, you’re right,” he said. “You’ll owe me a kiss after I prove you wrong, and show you that this experiment is completely safe. The accused is guilty and her story is nothing more than a rouse.”

Flashing Y/N a self-assured grin, Sherlock carefully shrugged off his coat and rolled up the sleeve of his dress shirt. Y/N watched as he lifted the mason jar to eye’s length and squinted at the small creature inside. “It’s nothing more than a common house spider,” he said surely. “It could hardly incapacitate a fly, let alone the likes of me.” He lifted his other arm and dipped the jar above it, gently forcing the spider out. “Do your worst, old friend,” he whispered to the arachnid. 

Y/N clasped onto the pocket watch tightly as the spider crawled the length of Sherlock’s arm. “Why isn’t it biting you?” she whispered. “I don’t suppose it’s agitated,” Sherlock whispered back. 

Y/N tapped her foot, growing impatient. “Perhaps you should agitate it.” she said snidely. 

“You’re beginning to agitate me, Y/N,” he retorted. “Perhaps you’ll have the same effect on the spider.”

Y/N smacked his arm playfully, giving him a jolt. It was there that the spider decided to bite. 

“Ouch!” he cried sharply. “That’s curious. I wasn’t expecting such a sting.”

Y/N bit her lip and watched as Sherlock shooed the spider back into the mason jar. He was uncharacteristically quiet as he did so.

They waited a few minutes, but there was no obvious reaction. “How long has passed since the bite?” Sherlock finally asked. Y/N checked the time. “Five minutes and thirty seconds.”

He smirked. “Now you see darling,” he began smugly. “I told you that nothing would happen. As the world’s greatest consulting detective, I’m too apt for mistakes! In fact…”

Sherlock hadn’t finished his thought when his speech slurred and he stumbled back a step.

“Sherlock?” Y/N called warily. His knees buckled and Y/N reached out an arm to catch his tall frame. “Perhaps it wasn’t a simple house spider…” he mumbled. She wrapped her arms around him and gently lowered him to the floor.

“Oh no,” Sherlock moaned jaggedly. “Y/N, this can’t be happening! What have I done? All my life, I- I—”

Y/N dropped to her knees and held his head against her chest. “What is it, Sherlock? Does it hurt badly?”

“No,” he said weakly, his eyelids fluttering. “It’s much worse than physical pain, I’m afraid.”

Y/N felt a wave of panic course through her. “Don’t tell me it’s lethal!” she cried out. “Is this going to kill you? Are you going to die?”

“Not lethal,” he affirmed faintly. “I just can’t believe I was wrong. I’m never wrong…”

With that, the consulting detective closed his eyes. Y/N stared down at him incredulously as he began to snore softly. It wasn’t the spider’s venom that he was worried about. It was the fact that he had made a mistake! 

Y/N rolled her eyes at his ego. “You’re an idiot,” she said, leaning down to kiss his forehead. “But you’re mine, I suppose.” With the unconscious consulting detective resting on her lap, Y/N reached for her mobile and dialed John’s number.

“Doctor Watson here.” 

“Hello John,” Y/N began. “Are you still near St Bart’s?”

“Yes, of course. Sherlock told me to stay on standby, though I’m not quite sure why.”

“It seems he’s a bit lethargic… knocked out cold, really.”

“Is he wounded?” John asked anxiously.

Y/N spared a glance at Sherlock and smiled at his unruly curls. “Yes John, he’s been wounded. Though it’s not what you think.”

“What do you mean?” 

“It’s mostly an injury to his pride.”

John sighed on the other end of the line. “I think I understand. Stupid experiment gone wrong?” he asked causally. 

“Does he conduct any other kind?” Y/N replied with a laugh. 

“On my way.”

Y/N tucked her phone away and looked at Sherlock still lying on her lap. “The wounded detective,” she mused. “This could have been easily avoided.” She watched his deep breaths and though she wanted to be annoyed at his stubbornness, she couldn’t find it in herself to reprimand him. It was as she had said before. Sherlock Holmes may have been careless, pompous, and snide; but he was hers. 

“I know you can’t hear me,” Y/N teased. “But I think the accused is innocent…”

Sherlock’s light snoring was his only reply, and Y/N giggled. “Sweet dreams,” she whispered. “Is it too late to tell you not to let the bedbugs bite?” 

▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️

GiveFragmented Passions a try!!!

This was a weird one I’ll admit, and it was scarring. Just writing this fic made me itchy and yeah-no. I really hate spiders. Ack, I’m actually cringing… WHY DID I DO THIS TO MYSELF??? Okay, now I’m genuinely scared, I’m checking every corner of my room just in case…

Oh, as for the title… arraignment and araña, get it???? Okay, no direct relation BUT law and spiders are kind of the theme for the fic sooo…

***If you’d like to be tagged in any future Sherlock fics, just tell me in the comments! (and if you’d rather not be tagged in ALL Sherlock fics, please specify; EX: Reader x Sherlock, Reader x John Watson…)

oh yeah, and visit my multi fandom taglist!!!

REQUESTS ARE OPEN!

HAVE A BRILLIANT DAY!!!

tagging the great:  @twisted-monster@starryeddie@high-functioning-lokipath@the-chaotic-cow@turkisherlockian@kabubsmagga@aephereal​@andthevillainshallrises​@cosbloos​@cookiemumster1​​@eternal-silvertongued-prince​​@bogginsreadings​ @i-beg-your-pardon-laufeyson​@lucywrites02@danzalladaggers

Surprise… Not Dead

It has come to my.. uh.. realisation.. that I haven’t updated either of my current two fics in.. a long time. Oops!

I promise I’m not dead.. I’m just an occasional tumblr lurker atm because university is being a pain in the arse and I’m getting thrown assignment after assignment and, quite frankly, I’m a bit sick of typing my mental health is also a bit not good but it’s just from the current stress of end of term essays..

However! After my next assignment (if I survive that long..) I’m planning on getting the next chapter written out for both my Mycroft and Sherlock stories!

Alternatively, I’ll struggle with the assignment and pretend to be dead for the next three years so my professors leave me alone could go either way… ANYWAY thank you all for your patience

A/N- Honestly this is about three thousand words of utter filth.. Expect the next chapter to have similar themes- but I mainly wrote this one as a filler for the next one.. I may also have lied about only having two chapters left and I am going to try and round it to a nice twenty.. Enjoy, perverts!

Word Count- 3.1K

Saturday had been spent, much like a majority of your previous days, in a bout of sheer laziness and relaxation- the after effects of the whiskey and abundance of greasy takeaway having taken its toll when morning arose.

“I’m too old to spend a whole night on the sofa.” You groaned, stretching out your arms and peeking through slitted eyes.

“You’re too old? At least you were laying down- my back is going to severely regret this.” Mycroft’s voice was muffled with sleep, but his hand squeezed fondly where it rested on your shoulder. “Forty two years old and I couldn’t control my whiskey intake enough to take us to bed before the exhaustion hit- mildly humiliating.”

“Well it’s officially your birthday weekend, so you’re not allowed to feel embarrassed or be grumpy.” Sitting up from your position of laying in Mycroft’s lap, you leant over to give him a quick kiss to his jaw.

“There’s truly no need for such extensive celebrations. It’s terrible enough that I am a day away from being a year closer to fifty, let alone seeking joy in such a fact.” As Mycroft sat up, you heard the bones of his shoulders and lower back click in protest of his movements. “Though with a reaction like that, I’m feeling far closer to eighty than I would like.”

“In that case, you make for a very handsome pensioner. I daren’t put you in a home- the old biddies will be all over you and I fear I may end up punching somebody’s Nan.”

“Jealousy truly that intact that you’d seek violence against the frail?”

“Mycroft, a part of me is jealous of your clothes for getting to hang off you all day; the Grannies wouldn’t stand a chance.” His chuckle sounded low in his chest and you grinned. “Though part of me thinks you’d enjoy it.. Breakfast?” Mycroft made a heavy noise in protest and shook his head.

“I feel as though I ate so much last night that I should never feel hungry again. I’m not entirely convinced that I am able to move from this sofa for it. What is the time, anyway?” Mycroft’s eyes squinted towards the clock on the fireplace but to no avail.

“Almost nine. You know, you should really consider wearing your glasses more.” The man scoffed. “What? Didn’t think I’d noticed them practically gathering dust on your bedside table?”

“Ridiculous. I needn’t wear them- the optometrist stated that they need only be worn when absolutely necessary.”

“Was that before or after you belittled their knowledge and decided you knew better?” You raised an eyebrow.

“I.. It was in regard for work. They were never too keen on allowing anybody to broaden to legwork if there was any means of.. weakness.” He explained, though it was a poor, near on twenty year old, excuse that you saw through immediately.

“Fine. That explains your appointment when you were twenty odd- but there’s no way there aren’t still government issued annual check ups, even though ‘leg work’ days are behind you.”

“Perhaps.. Even still- I merely just need a moment to awaken properly and then it’ll be fine. A shower should do it- and my aching bones.” Then, he smiled a little deviously and added. “Care to accompany me?” You smirked back but couldn’t help your following line.

“Why? Need a guide to find the shower?” He moved to flick your forehead but you stood before he could reach, holding out both of your hands and hoisting him off the chair. “Kidding. I’d never say no to seeing you naked.” Mycroft flushed at your words, despite being the instigator, and followed you up the stairs to the en suite bathroom.

— 

The hot water cascading down your skin was more than welcomed by your aching muscles from your kip on the sofa- and if the content look spread over Mycroft’s face was anything to go by, you’d wager he was equally enjoying the sensation. You ran the tips of your fingers over his bare shoulders, squeezing and applying pressure here and there where the muscles had felt tight. He hummed appreciatively, his eyes remaining closed as he focused his attention on the feeling of your hands on his skin paired gorgeously with the heat of the water trailing down his back.

“Mm, you shouldn’t do that. You’ll raise my expectations for any further showers we have.” His voice was low, almost raspy, and it caught you a little off guard.

“Keep talking in that voice and I promise I’ll do it every shower for as long as we both live.” You responded, moving to grab a handful of showergel before continuing your administrations. You moved to stand behind him, hands trailing from his shoulders, down his back and rounding back to circle the tight muscles around his neck- a trail of suds running down his body and circling the drain below. Mycroft could feel your fingers tracing the outlines of old scars, gliding over his hips where he had once felt so insecure over the small amounts of loose skin that clung to the bone, and circling back round to his chest where your digits ran soapily through his chest hair- your voice muttering in his ear how you adore his ginger streaks that he had spent so much of his life hiding. If actions like these were your intentions when you stated the need to celebrate his birthday for the whole weekend, Mycroft found himself feeling more willing to follow through with it all. “What are you thinking about in that pretty little head of yours?” You spoke with a grin, your hands now weaving shampoo through his hair- the strong smell of lavender and eucalyptus filling the air.

“Lucky.” Was the only word Mycroft could find his brain summoning, any other chance of pulling words from his brain diminished as you massaged his ear lobes in the midst of rinsing the white foam from his head. You smiled and let your fingers run down his jawline, stroking fondly at the small amount of facial hair that you had grown to love so much- and would miss dearly when it was once again removed for work.

“Lucky, eh? Didn’t think that luck and fate within the stars was really your bag, Mr Holmes.” You spoke teasingly. “Dare I say that I cloud your usual means of judgement? Should I be honoured?” You let your hands drop, fingertips skimming the skin of Mycroft’s thigh and trailing slowly inwards.

“Dangerous.” His eyes opened now, blue meeting E/C, pupils a little larger than usual. “I fear I lose a good ninety five percent of my usually extensive vocabulary around you.” Mycroft’s breath hitched in his throat as he felt your hand wrap around his quickly growing length, tugging slowly, tormentingly slowly.

“Only ninety five? Well that’s no good. Let’s see if I can up it to one hundred.” And with that, you quickly pressed your lips against his before dropping to your knees. Mycroft hissed as he leaned backwards, the warm skin of his back colliding with the bitingly cold tile of the shower. Wasting no time, you poked out the tip of your tongue and trailed it teasingly along the underside of his cock, relishing in the breathy moan that sounded above you. You feathered small kisses from base to tip before taking the head into your mouth, sucking slowly and circling your tongue around the sensitive skin.

“P-Please..” His voice was quiet but the begging undertones didn’t go unmissed. Electing to oblige to the wishes of the man on his birthday weekend, you began to bob your head, taking him in inch by inch and humming around the shaft as you went. “Oh, God..” You pulled away momentarily, a grin on your face.

“We might have reached a good ninety eight percent now, but I aimed for one hundred and I’m a girl of my word.” Shifting around more comfortably, you reached for Mycroft’s hands that had been bunched in fists at his side, moving them to rest clutching at your hair. “I’m all for you, Myc. Just take it.” You parted your lips slightly and glanced up expectantly at Mycroft who looked about ready to collapse.

“I- Are you-?” Rather than answering his unfinished question with words, you nosed along the thick shaft of his cock, licking lovingly at the veins pulsating at the sides and Mycroft groaned, his head rolling back to lay against the tiles as he fed you his length. He moved slowly, holding himself back, and stopping when he met resistance; making a move to pull back out but you quickly moved your hands around him and squeezed onto the gorgeous globes of his arse, encouraging him in deeper until your nose met with a light bristle of pubic hair. You sucked once, hard and long, guiding Mycroft out slowly and showing him how pleasurable this could be if he lets himself loose for a moment. His moans echoed off the tile, deeper than any you’d heard from him before and it only spurred you on, picking up the pace with your hands firmly planted on his backside until you felt the hands in your hair tighten and begin to guide you himself. He moved slowly at first, pushing in as far as he could before edging back with your lips around his tip, teasing himself with the light motions. Squeezing at his thigh softly, you signalled a moment to catch your breath- pulling from the swollen pink head of his cock with an audible 'pop’, and wiping away the small lines of pre-cum that began to dribble from the sides of your mouth.

“Good?” You smirked, your hand picking up the administrations of a mixture between slow, long tugs and quicker jerks of your wrist that had Mycroft debating the strength that remained in his legs.

“Mmmmm.” His only response was the low hum, his eyes now open but staring up at the ceiling, his lips parted as small gasps of breath left them.

“I think I’ve successfully achieved making you forget a hundred percent of your vocabulary, wouldn’t you agree?” Another hum. “Still, it’d be a shame not to finish up. Better get to it, eh?” You grinned, licking a line with your flattened tongue from base to hilt before giving control back to Mycroft and moaning against every snap of his hips to your mouth. It didn’t take long before they began to be on the verge of erratic and the noises that had begun to escape out of Mycroft’s mouth were nothing less than pure filth. He let out shaky, heavy breaths that were repeatedly cut off by a low moan that sounded from the back of his throat; paired with shaking legs and hands that tightened in your hair to keep you still while he regained his composure. As the volume of his noises increased, mixed with a variety of curses and shudders of your name, you felt yourself throbbing. With Mycroft doing the work, you trailed your hands teasingly down your chest, pinching at your nipples harshly before dragging your nails further down your skin until you reached your aching clit, letting out a guttural moan as your fingers traced circles over the bundle of nerves while your other hand pressed two fingers into your waiting hole. Melting under the sounds and vibrations of your voice, Mycroft found himself curious and tore his eyes from the ceiling to dare glance down at you. Christ alive.

“Oh.. fuck.” Hearing Mycroft swear was possibly one of your more unconventional turn-ons, but you let it spur you on nonetheless. Mycroft could barely stand it. His eyes had widened doubly as he looked down to you, the sight of his hard cock being taken in by your plump, overworked lips being an image that Mycroft would have burned in his memory for the rest of his days- part of him had even extended to wishing he could capture the moment physically on a camera and the mere thought of that was almost enough to push him over the edge. But what did it was his eyes trailing down to your hands, watching you work yourself, getting off to nothing but the mere action of pleasuring Mycroft- your mind focusing so intently on making sure Mycroft felt incredible that you didn’t even contemplate the idea of him needing to reciprocate anything, purely enjoying the fact that you were bringing Mycroft closer and closer to the edge with every little hum, or small trace of your tongue, and it was too much for him to handle. Mycroft’s hips began to thrust clumsily as he felt the knot in his stomach tighten, finding himself unable to blink for not wanting to miss even a split second of watching you in this very moment. You had felt your own build up getting closer and closer until you shuddered beneath your hand and let out an almost animalistic groan as you came against your fingers. The vibrations and witnessing of those final moments of your pleasure were the final straw for Mycroft as he reached his release, hips snapping one last time and the hands in your hair holding you against him, cumming down your throat in harsh stripes that you eagerly swallowed. His grip loosened and you slowly sucked him to completion, pulling your lips away from him with a trace of your tongue that left Mycroft shivering from the sensitivity.

It was only in this moment that the pair of you realised the water had begun to run cold, but the chill against the burning of your skin was gratefully welcomed as Mycroft pulled you from your feet and gathered you in his arms, his lips moving hungrily against yours. One hand dug fingers into your hips and the other ventured cheekily round to squeeze at your arse firmly, just once, before he pulled away, leaving just your foreheads against each other as you breathed in each other’s air.

“Early birthday celebrations don’t seem so bad now then, huh?” You spoke teasingly, your breaths becoming lighter as your lungs finally caught up and Mycroft laughed gorgeously- his eyes squinting and his nose crinkling in such a way that made you adore him impossibly more in that moment.

“I’m marginally disappointed it didn’t spread to the entire week.” You both laughed again and stood happily like this for a few moments more, until the cold of the shower left goosebumps against your skin and you needed to get out. Mycroft wrapped you lovingly in a large, plush towel that had warmed against the radiator in the bathroom and you accepted the warmth gratefully before heading back into the bedroom to find some clothes.

“Would I be pushing it if I requested we wear comfortable clothes for our last two days? Reckon you can forgo the suits?” You asked, almost pleadingly, when you saw Mycroft emerge from the bathroom wearing his dressing gown.

“I suppose if you are truly in charge of these early.. celebrations.. then it is only fair that I let you choose our attire, is it not?”

“Well if I had it my way of choosing the attire, then you would be wearing nothing at all for the entire weekend.” You spoke, edging your way towards him and relishing in the darker dusting of pink that covered his cheeks and spread to his neck. “All of that, and my little comments can still make you blush? I think you’re making me fall in love with you a little more each moment that passes, Mr Holmes. A dangerous road to go down- you’ll find yourself smuggling me into your office in your briefcase soon.” Leaning in, you dared place a few kisses down the side of his beautifully long neck before grinning against the skin and muttering, “or under your desk.” Feeling him swallow harshly, you couldn’t help but let out a laugh and walk away to get your clothes- leaving a blushing Mycroft once again lost for words and fighting every impulse to let himself imagine the scenario you had just laid out.

—

After the pair of you had got dressed- you electing for the overly casual loungewear of a pair of leggings and a stolen jumper from Myc’s wardrobe, and him in a slightly more casual pair of cord trousers and cotton shirt- you quickly headed over to the bedside table before you could head downstairs.

“Now, if I’m truly in control of the weekend, down to the very clothing that we wear, I have an insistence for something..” You walked towards the elder Holmes and stood on your tiptoes, laying his pair of round, tortoise-shell glasses against the bridge of his nose. “That’s better.” Mycroft’s nose crinkled in disapproval and he wandered over to the dressing table to glance at himself in the mirror.

“Truly, I don’t think this is necessary.”

“Why? Just realised that I’m actually really ugly and now you’re regretting everything?” You joked, following him and leaning up to rest your head against his shoulder as he glared unhappily at his reflection.

“Never. I just..” He sighed and shook his head. “Nevermind.”

“What?”

“No, it’s nothing. Just a ridiculous thought of vanity.”

“With a face like yours, I don’t think there would be anything ridiculous about you being a bit vain.”

“It’s just.. I feel wearing the glasses makes me feel.. As old as I am.” His gaze left yours in the reflection and he coughed from awkwardness, taking the glasses off his face and laying them back on the table. “I don’t mind so much of a night if I am reading, but throughout the day I feel as though they age me.”

“Myc, you’re literally in your early forties but you make it out like you’re ancient.” You dropped from your position against his shoulder to stand in front of him and put the glasses back on. “You’re aware though that it isn’t only older people that wear glasses? One of my cousins wears glasses and she’s only fourteen- she certainly doesn’t look like an old lady for it.” You laughed and pressed a kiss against his lips that had formed into a little pout. “Besides, I think you look good in them. Really good. Like a sexy professor- all you need is a tweed jacket with elbow patches.” Mycroft barked out a laugh and shook his head.

“I have three.”

“Of course you do. Right, come on, I have a relaxing day of your favourite classics on the telly, a walk through the park, and a fair few more instances of you without your clothes on planned.”