Sherlock Holmes x Reader

Untitled Part 1

A/N- Okay so as I said before, I am writing this again. I just wanted to suggest that if you are an old reader and have read up to where I had left off before that you should probably read these parts again. I'm changing some of the story line about so it would make more sense for later chapters if you read these again. ALSO I was wondering if anyone wanted me to add in smut in any of the later chapters? Of course I can leave this smut free but I also don't mind adding any in. Please let me know soon!

"John!" You called out as you sprinted across the airport grounds, spotting your sandy haired brother by the stairs. Chuckling to yourself as you saw his head move in every direction looking for you, you called out once more. "Oi, I'm right here Watson!" You shouted, diving into John's arms as soon as he noticed your presence. Naturally, you had grown up and spent the most part of your life with your brother but after landing a job in Australia as a private detective you left your sibling behind and ventured out into the world alone. Your decision to come back home was mainly caused by your lack of social groups in Oz- apparently you could be deemed 'a tad overbearing' with the 'extreme necessity to tell others they are wrong'. To be fair, they weren't completely wrong in their description but you did try your best. Having no one of the same mind set as you was actually tiring. Whilst your brother wasn't on the same intelligence level as you were (despite his constant need as a child to tell you otherwise), John was someone you truly got along with and someone who was used to your ways of life. He was home.

The need for air soon pushed you out of your reminiscing as John squeezed you back. "God I've missed you!" The elder Watson spoke as he released you from his vice like grip. "4 years is far too long, Y/N." He finished, picking up your bag and guiding you to the cab waiting outside.

The second the doors opened you couldn't help but laugh. Rain hammered down mercilessly against the greying pavements, soaking you in seconds. "Got to love England.." You mused, sliding inside the black cab's dry interior.

"Everything's completely paid for now so all I've got left to do is grab the keys from the landlady. Then I'm all settled in. It's great to be back." You smiled, resting your head on John's shoulder.

"Well Mrs Hudson is one of the sweetest people to ever grace this planet. It's impossible to not like her." John described, wrapping his arm around your shoulder. "Oh I probably should warn you that I have a flatmate now. Goes by the name Sherlock Holmes if you've ever heard of him." He said, looking in slight confusion as your face completely lit up.

"You mean to tell me that you share a flat with the world's only consulting detective? Of course I've bloody heard of him!" You smiled.

"Yeah? Well I hate to break it to you but he's not exactly the social type. I think he's spoken to his skull more than he has to me." John warned.

"He probably just knows that the skull is more likely to offer him an intelligent conversation.." You teased, punching him lightly in the arm.

"I've changed my mind. You two will get along fine." John smiled but rolled his eyes playfully. Before either of you had realised you had reached Baker Street the cab stopped.

John was the one to open the doors to 221 and immediately greeted an elderly woman with a hug. "Good afternoon, Mrs Hudson. I believe you've been expecting my sister?" He asked, pointing her in the direction of you. Immediately, Mrs Hudson wrapped her arms around you and smiled. You were never the biggest fan of human contact that you didn't initiate yourself but Mrs Hudson already felt like a reasonable exception. You couldn't see a single bad thing about her. After a brief introduction you were handed your keys to the flat.

"Some young men came over earlier to drop off your furniture, dear. Left the place in a terrible state I'm afraid." She shook her head as she finished her sentence making you smile warmly. You thanked her for letting them in and John assured her that he'd help you move in properly as soon as he could.

"Now John, I don't suppose I could trouble you for some tea before I work my arse off now could I? It was a bloody long flight and I haven't had one of your decent cuppas in donkeys." You asked, already dragging your brother up the stairs as though 'no' wouldn't be an accepted answer. He nodded and laughed, letting you know the door was unlocked before you opened it. Immediately you spotted the tall, curly haired gentleman in the midst of a conversation.. with himself.

"John? How long have you been gone for?" He asked, switching his position to rest in his armchair. Your brother rolled his eyes and moved to sit in his own armchair, signalling for you to sit on the other sofa. Not that you had the chance of course before the younger Holmes was on your case.

"Young, 25 years old I'd say. Just come back from a country with a far higher temperature than London; your tan is dark but not artificial. From the tag on your bag and the evidence of you being extremely tired on your face, no offence, Australia or New Zealand. Clearly the family favourite growing up because you're clever, definitely smarter than John.." A quiet 'cheeky git' was muttered by your brother at the words but he knew Sherlock was right. "Sporty too. Racket sports. Tennis? No, squash being your favourite. Closer with John than you were to Harriet and your parents but still care dearly for them all. Music lover, your fingers show you're a guitarist." He finished, looking up at you for any sign of response. You laughed and rolled your eyes, speaking a "Hello to you too, Mr Holmes" before resting on the coffee table in front of the tall man.

"And you were close. I'm 26 and my favourite sport is badminton, not squash.. My turn." You smirked, glaring into the man's, clearly amused, eyes. "Your age is evidently close to mind, perhaps slightly older but that could just be an illusion made by your maturity. You don't have a very close relationship with your brother but, like myself, still care for him dearly. Not that you'd ever tell him that of course. You've never had a real relationship, deeming emotions as a disadvantage. You're incredibly intelligent and are known across the globe but couldn't care less about what people think of you. You play an instrument too. Your posture is perfect and you seem the type that's up for something challenging so I'd say the violin suits you perfectly." You said, almost smugly, as you watched his expression become intrigued. "Oh and John? Just in case you ever wondered, he cares for you too." You smiled at Sherlock softly. "More than anyone, I'd say."

John just smiled and rested his head on his hand. "I did tell you she was good, Sherlock. Not that you were probably listening. The only thing I told her about you is that you're my flatmate." He laughed, handing a mug of tea to you and Sherlock.

"Not bad. Not bad at all.. You may actually be useful on cases other than your brother who's only input tends to be 'they're dead'" Sherlock said to you, ignoring your brother who shot him a death glare. Before you could respond a text alert went off, causing Sherlock's eyes to immediately flick to the screen beside him. "Yes! Murder!" Were the only words he spoke as he shot into the air and grabbed his scarf and coat. Sherlock then ran towards you, forcing you to put your mug on the table as he dragged you out the door. "Seems the perfect opportunity to put your skills to the test. Don't disappoint me." The three of you got into a cab and began to drive off.