Oh, My Goodness!!! I Love It!! Thank You!!

Oh, my goodness!!! I love it!! Thank you!!

I Want One

Read it on AO3!

Rating: G

Words: 577

Summary: Sherlock and his girlfriend (reader) are watching Rosie on John and Mary’s date night when he makes a life changing request.

Request: “[…] I would love to have a cute, fluffy story where Sherlock and female reader are looking after Rosie while Mary and John are out for the day.”

A/N: This is based both on the request above from @thesherlockedheart and a fic idea I had with this name few years ago, but forgot about. Genuinely grateful for the request cause I don’t know when I would have remembered and gotten to it otherwise.

(Y/N) leans against the door of her room, looking out into the living room where Sherlock was playing on the floor with little Rosie.  If anyone from Scotland Yard – or even his parents, for that matter – walked into the flat right now, they’d never recognize him.  She could hardly believe this was the same stoic, blunt, matter-of-facts man she’d fallen for a year or so ago.  The smile on his face – that absolutely beaming smile – made him look like a completely different man.

Rosie brought that out of him.  Sure, he smiled for (y/n) – he had many different smiles for her that he gave no one else.  But none like the one that instantly consumed his handsome features the instant he sees little Rosie Watson.

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I LOVE THIS! 🥺🥺🥺🥺

(RDJ) Sherlock x reader

modern au

(Y/n)’s peaceful slumber was rudely interrupted by the telltale ringing of her cell. Blindly reaching to the charging device she barely managed to get a look at the caller ID before she groggily slapped it against her ear. 

“What on earth are doing calling me at-” I lift up the phone, eyes tearing up due to how bright my screen was. “-2 A.M. John?” I mumbled into the receiver.

“It’s Sherlock, he needs you.” Johns voice crackled over the line, a worried twinge entering his voice at the last two syllables.

But I was too fogged with sleep to notice “Unless he’s dying, he doesn’t need me.”

“I’m really sorry to wake you up (Y/n). But he won't. Stop. TALKING. I'm at my wit's end! He was out on some mad errand and now he's at my home and divulging anything that's come across his mind!" Said John.

"Oh, dear." I said the claws of sleep slowly loosening it's grasp on me. "Tell me poor Mary wasn't anywhere near him…"

"No, thank God. She's asleep, but he's getting louder, and in all honesty I don't know how long this will last." John that thread of worry turning into a full blown tapestry.

I sighed, knowing just what I was going to sacrifice. Just what my dear old friend was alluding to. But I had to give a good night's rest one last try.

"John, do you love me?" I asked pitifully.

"Not that much I'm afraid." Said John, an air of relief in his teasing tone.

I huffed "Fine. Bring the twat over! You owe me a great deal for this."

And just like that, my night was sleepless.

John brought over Sherlock in less than ten minutes after the call. He was unceremoniously shoved into my home without another word, John left. That is where the fun began.

“Sit down on the couch Sherlock so I can look you over”, I commanded.

And like a puppet on strings he rather oddly walked over to my couch and sat down. I shook it off as soreness from a beating he surely had gotten.

His button up and jeans were wrinkled and dirty. Any semblance of his usual leather jacket was nowhere to be seen. He had a split lip, and what looked like a developing shiner. His hair was ruffled and looked a little burnt. All in all he looked like hell. But what really startled me is what came out of his mouth next.

"You look very pretty when you're concerned. About me that is." He blurted.

To be perfectly honest he looked as surprised as I felt. Afterwards he rather promptly (and childishly) slapped his hand over his mouth. A series of muffled mumbles following.

"Aside from that Sherlock, what on earth happened to you? I thought you weren't taking that case with the mob ties." I said, a little disappointed he went against my back for this.

"I lied, I didn't want you getting involved. I can’t stand seeing you-” And back went the hand, a slight blush painting his pale freckled face.

I was getting a little upset by all the mystery right about now. “Shirley if you don’t explain yourself I will tie your hands together behind you! Now stop muffling yourself, and speak to me clearly!”

Then Sherlock did something I really wasn't expecting…

He did exactly as I said.

Sherlock's hand shot from his mouth as if burnt by a hot coal. 

“I can’t stand it when you get hurt. Especially when it’s because of a case I’m on.” He blurted the faint pink of his cheeks starting to redden.

I was shocked to say the very least. Only able to mumble a faint “what?” In my own shock, failing to notice Sherlock desperately trying to cover his mouth. His hand only hovering in front of his mouth. Honestly with the way he treated me most of the time. Well lets just say near constant aloofness, and dismissal of one's general opinions and ideas isn’t really grounds for growing affection. But then again, more recently he’s had moments of a strange gentleness and being unusually thoughtful.

Just last week he had fixed my beloved locket when it broke. It was honestly the most thoughtful thing I had ever seen him do. Which got me thinking thoroughly of our time together, and how protective he’s gotten over the last four months. Getting less and less forthcoming with his exploits, trying to keep me out of entire cases on occasion! Which honestly is more infuriating than anything else, he did hire me to write about his exploits after all. (Since he wasn’t really fond of the paper constantly getting details wrong.) 

I looked at Sherlock, he was unusually quiet and rather fidgety. He sent an nervous glance, and though he was trying to hide it he looked very tense. But strangely still on the exact spot of the couch that he sat on when I asked him to sit on my couch.

Sherlock being the sort of person he is, usually paces or shifts from chair to chair, often room to room. Usually by this point in the conversation we would be in the kitchen or even my bathroom by this point. But here he was still as a statue, on my couch. 

“Sherlock, please don't keep secrets from me. You look like you’ve been through the ringer, and you’re acting weird... Well, weirder than usual.” I said sitting next to him. 

Sherlock winced, then spouted.

“It wasn’t just tied to the mob. It was a trap, I was so stupid! How did I not see something so obvious!” Sherlock puts his head in his hands. Looking defeated and frustrated.

I put my hand on his shoulder, in an effort to comfort him. I knew he hated feeling outdone, or worse out thought…

"Why don't you tell me what happened?" I asked softly.

It turns out that the “missing” man wasn't missing at all. He was a murder victim of The Vipers, a new and ruthless gang. The police had been trying to find the gang’s hideout but everytime they got close the Vipers moved and the police had to start from square one. Sherlock had been asked to be brought in, but refused because the case didn’t sound “exciting enough”. He thought that the mysterious murder he took up was related to the Vipers. He got more interested and even found the Vipers Current hideout. Unfortunately, that was exactly what the Vipers had wanted. After a heated scuffle, he was knocked out, and when he had come too there was the Viper leader. Gage Boyd, spent ten years in the clink for the murders of three fifteen year-old girls, though the police (and Sherlock, who had actually put him behind bars) believed there were more. 

Gage bragged about the supposed "obedience serum" saying that he would make Sherlock tell all that he knew. Which Sherlock being himself, meant an awful lot.

"Is Steven safe?" I asked, worried for our mutual friend.

"Yes, his cover is intact. I was able to make my escape before any truly important information was wrestled from me. But it seems that their 'serum' has quite a long lasting effect…" said Sherlock, his hands fidgeting with the remnants of this shirt.

"Oh, so what you said…" I trailed off.

"Yes, it was due to the serum." He said. Refusing to look me in the eye.

"Sherlock, what were you saying before about me going on cases?" I asked, sitting next to him.

The redness in his cheeks returned full force and fidgeting but seemingly unable to move from his spot on the couch. 

"W-well with what ha-happened with the last case we were on I-" He stopped for a moment, seeming to reminisce…

Ah yes the last case I was on… let's just say some nasty men got a little too close to me for comfort.

"I don't want to have you in that situation ever again. I-I don't know what I'd do with myself if you really got hurt. I lo- I love you too much for that…" he said pulling at his shirt collar, as if trying to hide the furious blush creeping down his neck.

I'm not going to lie, I was shocked. Not in a bad way mind you, because I had been harboring feelings for the scruffy detective for the last two months.

"You might not believe me Sherlock," I said then grabbed his hand, shocking him out of his crimson stupor. "But I might just love you too…"

Sherlock turned to me, a soft smile adorning his face. I nearly recoiled, this was an expression I haven’t ever seen my shrewd detective wear. But honestly it was something I could get used to. 

I then remembered what time it was, and my first "order".

"Oh Sherlock I'm so sorry! You can move however you like now… and you don't have to tell me anything you don't want to. I'm so sorry for forcing any of this on you..."

Sherlock stood slowly, as if getting used to having legs all over again. After getting used to gravity again, he turned and fixed me with the softest look I had ever seen from him.

"It's… alright. I don't blame you for any of it, you didn't-couldn't have possibly known of my condition. In all honesty, I had thought the toxin would have worn off by now…" he said that defeated tone creeping in towards the end.

"Now Sher-" I was about to say 'now Sherlock don't worry about that' but to avoid ordering him around. I said "Whatever happens we'll get through this."

And so ends a nearly sleepless night.

___________________________________________

May I request RDJ Sherlock pining over the reader but he doesn't want to confess his feelings but Watson somehow outs him. Lots of pining please! Thank you!

This was bad. He had all these feelings and didn't know how to deal with them. For once the great detective was at a loss.

As he sat in his room pondering what he should do, Watson had entered the flat. At first his friend didn't notice him sitting in his chair quietly.

John was happily talking about something that happened in town today.

Sherlock just put on a smile and immediately looked as if he had been listening. John seemed to buy it as he rambled on. The detective resisted the urge to roll his eyes as he stood from his chair.

John grabbed the newspaper, which had been discarded to one side, and then sat down. He noticed Sherlock pacing about.

"What's got into you?"

Sherlock turns to John and puts on a smile again.

"Whatever do you mean?"

"You're acting strange. More than you usually do." John drops the paper in his lap and stares intently at his friend.

"No I'm not."

"Yes you are. I think I know." John smirks as he sits back comfortably.

"Do you now? Then pray tell."

"You're not denying your weird behaviour?"

"What? Yes, no!" Sherlock speaks quickly. "If you're so clever, then tell me what you think is going on. Then I'll deny it."

"Y/N left this morning. They'll be out of town for a few days and, really do correct me if I'm wrong, but you're missing them already. You miss Y/N so much, it's painful waiting for their return. Are you, perhaps, in love with then?"

Sherlock stands up straighter and raises his chin up.

"No."

John just laughs and shakes his head.

"You liar."

Sherlock, not happy with the way John was looking at him, sat back down in his chair and faced his friend.

"You have no idea what's running through my mind right now."

"Oh, I think I do." Watson replies, smugly.

"Seven days. Y/N will be gone seven days."

"I know. I got their letter."

"Seven days without them is far too long. That's seven days without their voice, their presence, their company, their laughter."

"You really have thought about this, haven't you, Sherlock?" John spoke softly this time. His friend was pining for your return.

"I need Y/N." Sherlock speaks quietly. John had never seen his friend like this before.

"You're in love, Sherlock."

Silence settles between them. Sherlock is looking far into the distance, John looking at him.

Even Gladstone, who had been quietly resting on the floor, was looking up at Sherlock.

"Love?"

"Yes, Sherlock. When Y/N returns, tell them."

"But, that's seven days away." Sherlock whines in a rather childish manner.

"You have plenty of time to think it over. Think about what you'll say and do when they get back." John smiles.

"Right. Yes."

"Who knows, maybe you'll be as happy as I am with Mary."

"Maybe."

John just shakes his head with a smile as he raises from his seat.

"How about some tea?"

"Yes, alright."

John chuckles as he leaves the room.

Sherlock continues to sit there in silence as he thinks it all over.

"Seven days..." he mutters.

The panic set in. Seven days wasn't that much time at all. You would be back before he knew it.

What was he suppose to do?!

Cruella: You lying, cheating, piece of filth!

Jasper: Oh yeah? You’re the idiot who thinks you can get away with everything you do. WELCOME TO THE REAL WORLD

Cruella: I’m leaving you, and I’M TAKING ARTIE WITH ME

Horace, picking up the monopoly board: I think we’re gonna stop playing now.

Holmes: Who thinks I can fit 15 marshmallows in my mouth?

Watson: You’re a hazard to society

Irene: And a coward. DO TWENTY.