Sherlock X Reader One Shots || 𝐹𝐿𝑈𝐹𝐹 + 𝑆𝑀𝑈𝑇

A Holmes Family Reunion (Part 13)

Giving herself a final glance in the mirror of their little bathroom, Y/N pads back into the bedroom to find it empty.

The clang of enamel pots resonates from downstairs, along with the chink of china as someone rummages through the cupboards.

With a smile, she hazards a guess at where Sherlock has gone.

The sun is already flooding the hallway, lighting up the curls of gold leaf pressed into the wallpaper like daytime stars, specks of friendly old dust drifting lazily through the still air. Bright pools of illumination warm the flagstones at the bottom of the stairs, the smell of breakfast---cinnamon and hot, greasy butter---luring Y/N to the kitchen.

She finds Sherlock leaning lazily against the counter, prodding some soggy bread around a bright blue skillet with a spatula. A jar of strawberry jam sits open beside the egg basket and he dips a spoon in, scooping a globule up and popping it into his mouth.

Smiling, Y/N steps up behind him and takes his hips, looping her arms about his waist. "Hello."

Comfortably, he leans back into her, his chuckle humming against her chest. "Hello."

"What are you making?" She rubs her hands over the firm plain of his stomach and he hums appreciatively, turning around in her arms.

"French toast." He's grinning, his eyes roaming over the outfit she's chosen to wear as if he approves of what he sees, and, when he bends low enough to kiss her, his pink tongue is sweet with jam.

Hungry for it, Y/N drags him back down, searching for more of that taste and he hums, distractedly drooping the spatula down amongst the flour and sugar and eggy mixing bowl. Keenly, he grasps the swell of her hips, tugging her closer as if silently showing he'd very much like her to pin him against the counter.

Liking the feeling of The Great Sherlock Holmes melting below her touch like butter, Y/N obliges, deepening the kiss and he gasps breathlessly, a little overwhelmed. Her palms climb his belly, up his chest and find their new home in his hair, her teeth catching his bottom lip.

Sherlock makes a soft, guttural sound, and, in one strong motion, lifts her up, setting her firmly on the counter. With one hand, almost possessively, he parts her knees so he can get between the soft warmth of her thighs, settling there, very much at home.

"You were making breakfast," Y/N barely has time to pant between a giggle before he pounces on her again.

"I know..." He works her mouth until she quakes against his chest, her little moan twitching his lip into a self-satisfied smirk. "...but this is better."

Agreeing, Y/N drags her teeth over the angular bone of his cheek to his ear, giving the lobe a teasing nip.

Evidently enjoying it a great deal, he pushes himself further between her legs, using a wide hand at the curve of her back to sort of scoop her into him.

She continues along his neck, mouthing fervent, scattered kisses almost experimentally; a bite to the prickly underside of his jaw, a hot press of tongue to the hard muscle of his throat---

Each place earns her another little sound---a weak moan or a deep approving purr---but, over the delicious masculine scent of him, she becomes vaguely aware of a harsh metallic smell prickling the inside of her nose.

Reluctantly putting her exploration on hold, Y/N breaks the kiss, ignoring Sherlock's mumbled growl of malcontent.

"The toast is burning."

He doesn't pay it any mind, but she feels him let go of her long enough to blindly turn the hob down before clutching her again, his kiss so insistent she feels her shoulders bump against the cabinet.