#gif is not mine
Pairing: Ben Poindexter x Reader
Warnings: Slight language.
Summary:You decide to bring Ben a quick meal during his busy work day as a security detail for Fisk.
The elevator came to a halt with a familiar ding, gently rocking the floor of the small space. The doors lined with gold parted to reveal a hallway and you stepped into it, carefully balancing the drink holder in one hand and attempting to pull out the visitors pass from your pocket. Once the card was free and in your fingers, you turned left and walked over to the FBI agent standing in front of a large metal detector.
“State your name and business.” The guard announced as you approached. You presented the card and then the coffee and paper bag.
“Y/n. Delivering some coffee and bagels to Agent Poindexter because my friend refuses to have lunch.” You smiled. The agent nodded and handed the key card back, extending his other hand to take the beverage from you.
“I’ll take that in for you.”
You pulled back and shook your head. “I’d rather give it to him myself.”
The guard glanced back at where the agents were working and then sighed when he returned to you.
“With the present threat of Wilson Fisk, we can’t let you in there. There’s a lot of classified intel.” He told you apologetically.
You squinted at the agent, hoping that your charm could create a small miracle.
“Can you at least have Dex come out here for a while? He needs a break too.” You wondered.
The agent paused for a minute and then nodded silently. He instructed that you wait where you stood until he returned with Dex. It didn’t take long. Soon the agent had been replaced with your friend who looked at you quizzically, clearly not expecting a visit.
“Hey.” He said rather seriously, walking over. “Is everything okay?”
You nodded and presented the treats. Dex’s concern melted into something softer when he realised why you had come. Taking the coffee, Dex swirled it slightly and looked at her. “You shouldn’t have come here.” He reprimanded.
You took a sip of your own drink and leaned against the corridor wall, not realising that Dex had absentmindedly mirrored your actions.
“Youshould have lunch.” You countered with a smirk. Pulling out a bagel, you passed it over to the agent. Dex took a bite out of it and sipped more of the warm liquid to wash it down.
You couldn’t help but smile as you watched him and reached up to the injuries on face, gently brushing your fingertips below the scratch on his eyebrow.
“You’re almost healed.”
Dex inhaled and leaned into the touch, it was his ultimate weakness. He could abandon the FBI just to have you lying beside him and absentmindedly tracing his hand against your skin.
“Dex?” You chuckled with a small squint. You were trying to bite back a laugh as his behaviour reminded you of a touch-starved puppy.
“Hmm?”
“Did I lose you?”
Dex opened his eyes - not realising that he had closed them - and saw you looking back. He always controlled his impulse around you but lately, Dex had been losing control of that too.
Jerking up and off the wall, Dex accidentally pushed your hand away and cleared his throat. “I - um - I was just…”
“Hey, Poindexter!” His fellow agent called out behind him. “The shitbag’s dressed for lunch.”
Dex glanced back at his friend. “I’ll be right there.”
As the agent fell back into the room, Dex heard you clear your throat.
“I should be off too.” You told him. “I just wanted to make sure you ate and that you’re okay.”
Dex wanted to say thank you but his words had lodged in his throat. He was so nervous that he just opted to nod in response. You handed him the remainder of the bagels and patted his arms twice before heading over to the open elevator.
You pressed a button to the lower level and waited for the doors to close. Little did you expect for a hand to pop through and force the doors to open once again. Dex slid inside before you could question him and stepped over to where you stood.
Carefully, he placed a hand over you cheek and moved closer until his lips captured yours. He wasn’t thinking about what he was doing. He was just following his feelings from a few moments ago.
He honestly didn’t know if his feelings were being reciprocated until your hand grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him close. It was everything he had imagined.
Imagine Thor trying to grant you visitation with Loki…
The sentence had been passed. Loki was to remain in a cell until the end of his days with no contact from the people who still loved him. You had asked the Allfather for one last conversation before the prince was taken away but Odin refused.
Thor had witnessed the exchange and when the crown-prince saw you refusing to complete the usual warrior duties or attending feasts, he knew that he needed to help.
Finding his father in the throne room a few days later, Thor addressed the matter directly once the guards had left.
“My brother has wronged so many people, I understand your sentence to imprison him.” He started.
Odin bowed his head. “Crimes in Asgard have consequences and this is Loki’s.”
“What about Y/n? They are no criminal, so why are they being punished?” Thor asked. Odin fell silent and listened to his son.
“Father, I know the pain of being separated from people I love. And despite all his errors and crimes, Loki has loved Y/n. You don’t want him to enjoy his sentence, I can respect that but Y/n doesn’t deserve to suffer.”
Odin thought about the situation and after a few minutes he gave a curt nod. “Very well, Y/n has done much for us. They can part ways with Loki and I’ll allow one visit within the year - only one.”
One visit within the year was better than being forced apart forever. Thor nodded, trying his best to contain his joy. “Thank you, father.”
Imagine deciding to take Bilbo back home after Thorin’s outburst…
You quietly rolled up the blanket and fastened it with a strap on top of your backpack. Turning around, you saw Bilbo pick up his walking stick and nod to himself as if agreeing that this was the best decision. A part of you didn’t want to leave this adventure so soon but you too had grown tired of the company’s ill treatment of your friend.
Particularly Thorin.
The leader of the dwarf group had made it clear on several occasions that the less-experienced Hobbit didn’t belong with them. After the stress with trolls and more recently, Stone Giants, everyone was on edge. But Thorin once again had snapped at Bilbo for slipping off the edge of the rock face.
That was the last straw for you.
Once the company had fallen asleep, you approached Bilbo and he confided in you that perhaps Thorin was right. With Bilbo’s hope barely visible, you planned to leave that night. A plan that would have worked perfectly if Bofur wasn’t on guard duty.
“Where are you both off to?” He asked quickly, quite shocked with the pair all dressed up.
Bilbo fell silent, not sure what to say but you adjusted the strap on your shoulder. “I’m taking him home.”
“What? Why?”
“Thorin was right. I should never have come.” Bilbo told the kind dwarf.
Imagine series > Part 1 | Part 2 (coming soon) | Part 3 (coming soon)
Imagine telling Harry that you’re trapped between Zoom and reaching the time vault…
“Y/n?” Harrison called over the phone. His heart leaping at the sound of your voice. “Y/n, where are you? We need to get out of here now!”
On the other end, you were running through STAR Labs as fast as your legs could go. You were gathering wires and tools that came your way in an effort to be armed.
“I can’t. He’s coming and you need to get inside the vault now.” Your sentence ending with sharp intakes of air. You could just imagine the look of horror on Harrison’s face and you wished that you weren’t the one to add additional worry.
“What? No, you need to come…” Harrison suddenly heard a sound that made his heart fall to the pit of his stomach – the proximity alarm on the computers and a whoosh on the other end of the phone call.
You gasped and hid behind a wall, pressing your back against its cold surface. The electricity spiked in the air even though Zoom was far away. “He’s here.”
Part 1 - read here | Part 3 - coming soon…
Imagine Oswald arriving in time to help you…
You were warned against shaking the tree and yet, you ignored them all and enlisted Jim Gordon’s help. It was this err in judgement that now had you limping through an abandoned parking lot.
Your hand was pressed against a hole in your jacket where blood seeped and stained. You were exhausted and all hope of being found faded with each second. As you rounded a pillar, you saw a familiar umbrella and a face that always accompanied it.
“Oswald?” You wondered. How did he know where you were? Limping over, you heard a faint crash from behind. No doubt your pursuers.
Oswald gave you a once over and pursed just lips. “It’s a good thing that Jim came to me when he did. A few hours later and there’d be a vacancy at the GCPD.”
You winced at the ache in your ribs grew. “That means Jim owes you a-“ your eyes felt heavy and legs went numb sending you crashing to the ground. Your ears were ringing and you could feel the vibrations of several footsteps on the ground.
Mustering what little strength you had, you opened your eyes for a few seconds. The thugs - the ones who had put you in this situation - were charging for you.
Your stomach tied into knots and flipped as you waited for the inevitable.
Bang!One of the men dropped to the floor.
Bang! Bang! Two more bodies fell.
It was over and you exhaled as the darkness started invading your senses. Oswald’s shoes came into view and you heard him from somewhere above.
“Jim already owes me many favours. This one’s for you to pay.”
Imagine Harry explaining his ‘emotional day’…
You and Harry were on a roll. Even recruiting Eggsy was going well until Harry let out an abrupt statement.
“I’m having a rather emotional day.”
You rolled your eyes. “For fuck’s sake, Harry. I told you that we weren’t having cake for breakfast. Stop being so dramatic.”
“It was a very good slice of cake and I would have liked to have eaten it.” Harry argued in a manner that incorporated politeness, childishness, and a hint of charm.
Eggsy crossed his arms and watched the bickering as his mind kicked into gear. “So, you say you ain’t together, right?” He asked, catching your attention. “Then why are you having breakfast at his place? Because, I’m picking up some serious vibes that you is both dating and trying to keep it off the radar.”
“He’svery quick.” You complimented, brows raised and a smirk on your mouth.
Harry leaned back and rolled out his shoulders, keeping his eyes trained on Eggsy. “Indeed.”
Eggsy’s eyes widened when he noticed that you were both staring for a little too long and frowned. “Was that a test?”
You cleared your throat and shook your head. “Actually, no. Harry does get a tad bit sentimental over cakes.”
“I just don’t understand why you’re against it for breakfast.”
Pairing: Robbie Reyes x Reader
Warnings: None.
Summary:Robbie had his brother away from danger but he quickly realises that there’s someone else he needs to keep safe.
“I can’t believe I’m on a secret agent ship!” Gabriel exclaimed as he wheeled his chair around to look at the interiors. Daisy smiled while Robbie forced a half-smile despite guilt eating away at his soul. Gabe turned back to his brother and grinned.
“So, if I’m in protective custody why didn’t you bring in Y/n?” Gabe asked innocently. Daisy’s eyes sparked with intrigue at the mention of the name but Robbie frowned to cover up the way his heart wrenched at the mere mention of your name.
“Gabe, why you bring them up?” After being together for years, Robbie had broken your heart to spare you from the truth and danger of the Ghost Rider. It had been months since that conversation took place and he hadn’t seen you since - apparently, Gabe had some secrets of his own.
“I bumped into Y/n a few days later on my way to school. I missed having them around so I invited Y/n to come by every few nights while you were away - just like old times. They were meant visit today.”
Robbie felt his heart leap into his throat as he reached into his pocket and snatched up his phone, instantly hitting the second contact on his speed dial: Mi Amor.
So caught up in his emotion and keeping the monster within at bay, Robbie didn’t notice Gabe and Daisy smirk at the caller ID.
Pacing as the call rang out, Robbie clenched and unclenched his fist repeatedly. Turning to Daisy, he gave one look and she understood what he meant. Nodding, Daisy sent a text to Mack to turn the plane around.
Then suddenly - the call was answered.
“Y/n?” Robbie asked. Hoping to the everything that you were fine.
“Robbie.” You replied in a thankful whisper. You were clutching your chest, back pressed against a wall in Gabe’s bedroom. “I couldn’t find Gabe at home. I’m worried they’ve-”
"Gabriel’s with me. He fine.” Robbie informed and began to grow nervous. You sounded like you had run a marathon. “Where are you?”
“Gabriel’s bedroom.” You stopped for a minute and shuddered at the mere memory of what your eyes had seen. “I saw… there was a woman who walked through the wall. Robbie, she looked like a ghost."
"Listen to me, miel - hide. Don’t look back and don’t go back to the…” There was a sharp gasp followed by an abrupt end to the call where the line went dead on your end. “Y/n?”
Still holding onto the phone like a lifeline, Robbie waited as if he’d hear your voice again until the reality settled and his rage bubbled to the surface causing the phone to melt into a puddle of metal and plastic.
"What happened?” Gabe asked. Daisy stepped forward with the same question and Robbie looked at the pair of them.
“They took Y/n."
Imagine Mando letting you see his face…
The helmet hissed just before it was lifted off - brown eyes staring back once more but somehow it was softer than before. The fear that was imbued in them back at the imperial base was gone. Now it seemed that all he could see was you.
You looked away on instinct, not daring to hold eye contact any longer. You shook your head at his feet. “No - back at the base, you did what was necessary to find the kid. This is…”
“It’s what I want.” Hearing him step forward, you made a small effort to step away but he was fast, hands catching your arms and holding you in place as he moved closer. “I want you to see me, Y/n.”
One of his hands found your chin and he gently guided your eyes up the beskar until they were staring into his own - his warm brown, human eyes that always watched from behind the helmet visor. It didn’t take long before you surrendered to your emotions and leaned forward, pressing your mouth against his as if he could provide you with oxygen.
Imagine playing a risky game when Zoom attacks Earth-2 Star Labs…
“Henry, lock this place down and evacuate everyone!” Harry demanded, his tension levels rising with the imminent danger.
Henry, confused and worried, stumbled over his feet. It was going to be mayhem and you knew it. Zoom was quicker than the Flash and there was no room for slight error.
A lightbulb burst overhead, frightening scientists who fled and you grabbed Harry’s arm. “I can do it faster from the main grid."
Technically, you were right but Harry shook his head. "Absolutely not.” He turned and started to send instructions to the rest of the team when he felt a tug on his arm.
You placed a hand on his cheek and forced him to look at you. "I’m not asking.“
He didn’t like the idea of you out in the open while Zoom was upon the labs. He was also out of time to argue your stance without endangering all lives. Exhaling heavily, Harry placed a hand over your own and squeezed before passing one parting piece of information.
"Time vault - ten minutes.”
Part 2 - coming soon… | Part 3 - coming soon…
Pairing: Sherlock x Reader
Warnings: None.
Summary:You always said ‘yes’ to Sherlock Holmes - today, was a day of change.
You descended the stairs from your apartment. You hit the base and approached the open door of 221b where you willed yourself not to peer inside.
You had almost made it past your neighbours when Sherlock called you name so loudly that it echoed against the walls. Faltering on the next step, you stopped and retraced your path until you were staring at the face of the consulting detective standing in the middle of the room.
“John and I are heading to the garden on Fifth Street to examine the crime scene. Your expertise will be required - you’ll join us, yes?”
With a short hum, you delivered an answer. “No.”
It was clear that the detective hadn’t heard as he clapped his hands with excitement. “Excellent! Now we’ll uncover the - wait, no?”
His mind finally caught up and when he turned to challenge your response, you were gone. John was in the middle of putting on his coat when he noticed his friend chase after you.
Thankfully you were only in the small lobby on the ground floor, putting on gloves to brace the weather outside.
“What do mean ‘no’?”
You heard him from the stairwell, footsteps growing louder until he was visible and smirked. “According to the Oxford Dictionary-”
“You know what I mean! I don’t understand why - hold on, you’re not still mad about last night, are you?”
Before you could respond, Mrs Hudson came rushing out from the back exit of her shop with a take-away cup in hand, gently pushing it into your hands.
“Now, you be careful there, dear. It’s fresh and very hot.” She mothered and turned to see Sherlock on the stairs, sending him a look of disapproval. “And shame on you for ruining Y/n’s perfectly good coffee machine by grinding the teeth of the deceased.”
“I was testing the effects of - oh, nevermind!” Sherlock abandoned his explanation when you disappeared from him once more.
You were now standing on the street curb as you waited for a taxi to hail down. He caught up behind you and stood directly in front of where a vehicle rounded around the corner.
“I upset you - but that doesn’t mean that you should just walk out on an investigative lead.”
As a cab pulled up to a stop, you opened the door and scoffed, turning to the man. “Your faith in me is a little disappointing, Sherlock. I’ll see you and John on Fifth Street.”
Characters: Loki, Mobius, Reader (all platonic)
Warnings: None… maybe some mischief.
Summary:You owed Mobius a favour and now he’s cashing in.
If you were honest with yourself, you should have seen this coming.
Had you not sent the Variant to disrupt Mobius’ lunch, the latter would not have leverage to ask for a rule-breaking favour.
“You owe me.”
Arms folded, you huffed. “Can’t I just buy you lunch for the year?”
Loki, who was standing behind Mobius, heard the offer and thought that it would be wise to weigh in.
“You should take it, Mobius. It’s much more enticing than testing a theory.”
Nodding, Mobius lightly nudged Loki back to keep him at bay, “Alright, okay.” He said and once the Variant had calmed down, addressed you. “Y/n, as tempting as that is, I have to decline. I need your help now.”
“You’re asking for help on a half-baked plan to go off-grid with a Loki variant - I mean, you don’t even know what apocalypse you want to go to.” You frowned.
If Mobius was serious about the whole plan then you’d have hoped that it would be fully thought out - not on a whim.
“I know where we want to go. Atlantis before it sinks.” Mobius answered.
You couldn’t help the scoff that tumbled out, “Atlantis? No, you’re not going there.”
“Why not?”
“It happens too quickly and you can’t swim.” You explained without any room to convince otherwise.
Mobius sighed, “Okay, what about before ‘The Snap’?”
“Too many variables.”
Loki popped his head up over Mobius’ shoulder, “Ragnarok?”
“Absolutely not.” You rejected without hesitation.
Placing his hands on his hips, Mobius thought carefully of other nexus events that were on the table, then his eyes widened.
“Pompeii.” He said.
You shook your head, “No, I just reset that timeline after a town elder successfully convinced the whole city to move out.”
“That’s why it’s perfect. You’ve recently submit the report confirming that the timeline’s intact so there won’t be any TVA interference.” Mobius explained much to your displeasure. “Y/n, it’s perfect. You know it is.”
You hated it but the man wasn’t wrong. As you considered holes in the idea of going to Pompeii’s nexus event, Mobius was more set than ever that this theory would be tested. Eventually, you gave in and agreed.
“Fine. You can borrow my tempad for this one mission but the disturbances need to be small.” You warned, surrendering your device to Mobius and looked over at the raven-haired prince. “Do you hear me Loki? Small.”
Loki rolled his eyes like a child and mimicked your words. He then reached across and tried to help Mobius with the tempad but inadvertently opened a portal below your feet and dropped you through to 79 AD.
“Oops.” Loki said half-apologetically.
“Damn it, Loki. Are you trying to get them to throw us into the volcano?” Mobius groaned.
Soon after, the pair jumped through the glowing hole in the ground and found you absolutely seething beneath an archway. Loki watched as you walked over and smirked.
“I see the fall hasn’t broken your hard exterior.”
Biting the urge not to ‘prune’ the mischief maker, you took a deep breath and turned to Mobius. “You’ve got ten minutes before my tempad signals head office that I’m here again - work fast.”
Imagine declining a task from Reddington…
Strolling in with a smile on his face, Reddington picked up one of the newspapers sitting on the hallway table as he walked deeper into the apartment. At the entrance to the living room, he noticed you reclined on the sofa against the open window where the weather was inviting beautiful rays of sunshine.
There was a blue clay mask over your face and you were dressed in a soft robe - clearly taking his notes on how to make the most of a day off.
As the man took a seat on the free couch, he grinned. “One word - breakout.”
Eyes closed, you could recognise Reddington’s footsteps from a mile away. Letting out a sigh, you shuffled in the chair to stretch your relaxing muscles.
“No thanks.”
Reddington blinked at the response. It wasn’t what he had been expecting. “No thanks? You practically jump at breakouts.” He honestly couldn’t remember the last time you refused a task that requiring outsmarting the other team.
“Normally, yes. I do love the occasional prison break - especially if it bothers the authorities. But I’m on a ‘staycation’ for a month.” You replied in a voice filled with zen. “You should try it.”
Flabbergasted, Reddington stared in disbelief. “Y/n, you literally have a small-scale heist in two hours for the Lewis Brothers. That hardly factors as a ‘staycation’.”
“They were booked in prior to my break.”
“Then reschedule - this is important. We need to get Rakitin out of the Post Office.”
Reddington hoped that the details of the mission would be enough to place some weight on the matter - but you merely hummed.
“Oh, he’s very valuable. You should really get him back.”
“So, that’s it? You won’t help?” Reddington scoffed, leaning back in the chair.
You shrugged nonchalantly. “Not really.” Lifting an arm in his direction, you wiggled a few fingers. “Can I have that paper before you leave?”
Casting an incredulous look at Dembe, who smiled, Reddington did as requested with a shake of his head. “Unbelievable.”
Imagine trying to care for Harry after he’s injured…
You frowned while working the bandage onto Harry’s forehead. A simple task if the man had not been talking and gesturing about how he hated being confused with Eobard Thawne and that it was the reason he was kidnapped.
“We’re two different people! How can your Earth not see the difference?”
Without fail, his bandage slipped from your hold again and you huffed. “Harry.”
Finally, the man paused and you took advantage of his stillness. Taking a small swipe of the antiseptic cream, you smeared it over Harry’s bruise with your thumb before grabbing the bandage and gently sticking it over the injury.
“That should do it.” You told him and stroked his cheek. “By the way, I can see the difference.”
Characters: Sherlock x Reader, John Watson x Reader (platonic)
Warning: None.
Summary:Sherlock could be a little difficult. You were about to learn just how much when he comes down with an illness.
Sherlock had been looking miserable over the course of the day and you had suggested a small nap. He threw a fit and made you endure a lecture about why the solution was insulting until finally storming into his room and giving in to his body’s demands.
That was in the morning. It was mid-afternoon when you were sitting on Sherlock’s seat in the living room after work when the man finally emerged.
“For someone who considers naps to be ‘for babies’, you sure slept like one.” You poked and looked up from the newspaper in your hands, eyes going wide. “Wow, you actually look worse.”
Sure enough, the detective had sauntered out of bed still donning his robes, eyes watery, hair dishevelled while sniffling. Then when he spoke, his voice sounded nasally - clearly the signs were obvious to everyone but him.
“You look worse.” He repeated and then darted towards the front door.
Shooting out of the seat, you followed Sherlock.
He wasn’t supposed to be working!
The detective opened the creaky panel, paused and backtracked. Whirling around (making himself slightly woozy in the process) he walked back to his desk and threw papers about, mumbling about a ‘break in the case’.
He marched over and took you by the shoulders.
“He wasn’t hated by the press. He was hated by the mailman!” He let go and wobbled a little as he looked for his coat - which was folded on the mantelpiece.
“And you were hated by your immune system.” You muttered and moved over to the doorway. “Sherlock, you can’t go out half-dressed and infectious.”
The man had somehow put on his coat while breathing through a stuffy nose and thought he was fit to wander around London in such a state.
“Watch me.” He challenged from the middle of the room.
You grabbed the coat rack that was standing to the left, thankful that only a singular blue scarf was hanging on it, and pulled in front to stop Sherlock from moving forward.
“Don’t you take another step.”
In true Sherlock-fashion, the man indeed attempted to advance but was prod with the end of his own furniture - like some kind of animal. “Y/n, you’re being ridiculous. I’m… achoo!”
The sneeze had you smirking with the confirmation that you were right but the detective rolled his eyes.
“One sneeze doesn’t mean anything.”
You reached into your pocket and pulled out your phone while maintaining a strong grip on the coat rack in case Sherlock tried to wrestle it out of your hold.
“What are you-? Y/n-“
Pressing a button, you put the device to your ear until there was a voice on the other end.
“Hey, I need you at Baker Street…”
“Is that John?” Sherlock asked but was ignored.
“How quickly can you get here? Perfect. Thanks.”
Putting the phone away, you met Sherlock’s glare on the far end of the stick. His eyes were sullen, nose tinted red, and light beads of sweat were showing on his forehead.
“Are you happy now? John’s not going to let me out of the flat for a week now.” Sherlock complained, very annoyed.
“You’re not supposed to leave the flat until you’re better.”
Footsteps trod up the creaky boards as you held your defence. Mrs Hudson popped her head through the open door and saw the odd situation for the day.
“Yoo-hoo. I heard raised voices - what are you doing with the coat rack, dear?” She wondered innocently.
“Good, Mrs Hudson. I need you to knock your elbow into Y/n’s third rib.”
The instruction from Sherlock made the older woman frown. “What’s this?”
You quirked your brow at the man, “Don’t mind him, Mrs Hudson. He’s just running a bit hot. I think a lovely bowl of your homestyle soup will calm him down nicely.”
The landlady wasn’t the housekeeper but she made the most wonderful meals when someone came down with a cold. Nodding excitably at the request, Mrs Hudson turned around and returned to her kitchen to prepare the dish.
You refocused on the detective and tilt your head in the direction of the couch.
“Lay down.”
Sherlock leaned forward. “Make me.”
In one swift motion, you poked the man to his surprise. Sherlock’s muscles were already aching so the action wasn’t one that he wanted to continue and he finally conceded. The detective marched over to the sofa and plopped himself onto it heavily, letting out a small exhale of relief.
“You’re such a child sometimes.” You mumbled while setting the rack down. Crossing the room, you picked up a box of tissues and set them on the table within Sherlock’s reach. You moved over and pressed the back of your hand against his forehead, it was much warmer than it should have been.
“You have a temperature.”
Sherlock shuffled a little to lean over the edge and let out a series of coughs. You instantly moved back to avoid catching anything.
“It’s just the human body trying to regulate it back to normal.” He said, voice hoarse and almost admirable. He composed himself and laid back down with a small sniffle.
“I know how temperature regulation works, Sherlock.” You crossed the room to the kitchen and filled a glass of water before bringing it over to the man. “But if you don’t treat it now, you’ll be bedridden for weeks.”
The door at the base of stairs opened up, inviting a light gust of air and the brief sounds of London traffic. A low voice greeted the lady in downstairs. John had finally made it which meant that Sherlock couldn’t win his argument to leave.
As you placed the glass beside the tissues, John announced his entrance with a knock. You smiled and Sherlock pouted.
“I’m fine. Y/n’s just overreacting.”
Shaking his head, John had expected this behaviour from his friend and stepped into the flat.
“From the way you sound and the way you look, I think I was right to be called.”
You shot Sherlock a ‘told you so’ smirk to which he rolled his eyes. Turning to John, you walked over to hug him. “Thanks for coming so quickly. He was just starting to get difficult.”
“You stabbed me with the coat rack - achoo!”
John wasn’t the least bit concerned with Sherlock’s dramatic response. After the embrace, he conducted some quick checks on the consulting detective and confirmed the diagnosis that the man was had indeed caught a cold. You and John both agreed that it was because he had gotten soaked in the early morning rain the previous week to chase down a lead.
From the temperature that Sherlock had developed, John prescribed some medicine to aid his recovery knowing that if he got too bored from being sick, he’d shoot at the walls again.
He handed you a slip of paper, “I’ll call Lestrade to let him know that Sherlock’s out of action for a while. The back of it has the name of a good chemist.”
Nodding, you glanced at the words on both sides and stored the paper away into your pocket. You thanked the doctor once more as Mrs Hudson wandered inside and placed a tray on the table with two bowls of steaming hot soup.
“Here you are - my remedy to cure the chills.” She said brightly.
Sherlock shivered and pulled his robe a little tighter. “It’s just flavoured hot water.”
Thankfully, the woman barely noticed and looked at John. “I’ve packed some for you and Mary to take home.”
“That’s excellent, thank you Mrs Hudson.”
The landlady left and John stepped in the same direction before pausing, pointing in the direction of the sick detective.
“Look, call me at any time if he starts being an even more obnoxious version of himself.” He said.
You nodded and gave him another grateful hug. “I will, thank you.”
With some extra well wishes, John finally left 221b with the promise to visit in a few days.
Sighing, you realised that the flat had been scented with Mrs Hudson’s soup and your stomach made a low growl. Turning, you noticed that the bowls were still untouched. You stepped over to Sherlock and sat on the edge of the table.
“Come on, you need to eat something.”
“I don’t need it.” Sherlock grumbled.
“Fine.” You shrugged and picked up one humming in content as it warmed your hands. Then you took up a spoon and took a taste, complimenting in detail the landlady’s craft.
The creaminess of the tomatoes, the faint hint of thyme, the mouth-watering taste of…
Sherlock slowly sat up, an unamused glare on his face as he grabbed his own bowl of soup - clearly exhausted of listening to you describe the ingredients.
At first, he took a mouthful just to prove the point that he was eating… then the flavours danced tangoed with his taste buds and the man couldn’t help but let out a blissful hum.
You focused on your own bowl and smiled. “Good, right?”
Sherlock glanced at you briefly and swallowed his pride with the soup.
“It’s alright.” He admitted.
And for the next few minutes, you both sat in silence filling stomachs with the warm meal. You cast the occasional glance at the detective to monitor his illness but often found that his eyes would get lost in a thought that was no doubt tied to the theory of the mailman.
“You know, if you keep sitting so close to me you’ll catch my cold.”
As it turned out, he was referencing the way you had absentmindedly touched his forehead again. Pulling your hand back, you let out a small sigh and set down the empty bowl.
“Maybe.” You leaned back a little. “Besides, if I do catch it, I can easily infect Donovan after that snarky comment she gave me yesterday about my desk organisation.”
Sherlock shrugged as he sipped on the last of his soup. “Well…”
“I’ll poke you with the coat rack if you attempt to finish that comment.”
Sherlock began to chuckle until his coughing fit returned. For someone who was always on the move, you low-key enjoyed seeing Sherlock’s vulnerability. He was so human in the moment.
Smiling at him, you stood up. “You should get some sleep.”
Making your way over to the kitchen cabinet, you bent down and pulled out a light blanket. Instead of heading back the way you entered, you opened up the second door that led into the foyer and stared at the back of a familiar head of curls.
Sherlock had leapt to his feet the moment you were gone and was trying to sneak himself out. He succeeded the silent closing of the door until he turned around and saw his audience.
You pointed over his shoulder, a stern expression on your face.
“Back inside or the coat rack will be the least of your problems.”
He grumbled about it but you managed to get him inside. Reaching into your pocket, you pulled out the little paper that John had given you earlier.
On one side, there was a list of medicine. On the reverse, there was no name of a pharmacy/chemist but a little word of advice:
I’ll drop by tomorrow morning with the items. P.s. if you blink, he’ll run.
When you forced him out of his studio to get some food after he neglected his health for weeks again due his work.
(GIF: credits to f-ngrl)
When he stares deeply into your eyes.
When you spent the night at his place for the first time and he totally likes to way you tell him good morning in your sleepy voice.
When he has been in love with you for many years but in his own twisted mind, he thinks he is not good enough for you.
When you are about to break down and he takes you in his arms, telling you it is okay to cry.
When you are part of a rival gang, but he hopelessly fell in love with you.
