Requested by wulfluvcat
Originally, this was a request for a fluffy scene with John. But since I couldn't reach my usual word count with that, I decided to, with permission, expand this to a Preferences oneshot, where I incorporate several scenes with the men of Sherlock we love :)
Thank you all so much for reading and getting me to over 18K reads! It means the absolute world to me.
Beware: this is a longer oneshot than usual :>
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Sherlock Holmes:
Sherlock smiled softly at your sleeping form. Your legs were tangled together and he had an arm draped over your shoulder.
The early sunshine began to seep through the small crack in between the curtains and lit up the bedroom.
He carefully removed some strands of hair out of your face to allow him a better view. All the muscles in your face were completely relaxed and cast a peaceful look on your face. The corners of your mouth were slightly pointing upwards. It was all the validation he needed to ensure you had had a good night sleep.
He kept playing with your hair and drew patterns on your skin, and the tickling sensations woke you up. Slowly, you opened your eyes. ''Morning,'' you croaked, smiling.
''Good morning, Love,'' he said, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead. ''Sleep well?''
You hummed and nodded, shutting your eyes and snuggling closer against Sherlock's chest. ''Yeah, you?''
''I was too busy staring at you.''
You giggled. ''Creep.''
He laughed along with you before planting another kiss on your head. ''We should get up and eat something,'' he offered.
You groaned in protest. ''Can we just stay here all morning?''
He shook his head. ''I'd love to, but we have plans.''
You grumbled again, but untangled yourself from Sherlock nonetheless and got out of bed. Once he put on his morning robe and allowed you to borrow one, you two made your way to the kitchen, playfully bumping into each other and laughing together.
''Alright. What's for breakfast?'' You wondered, letting your eyes scan the contents of the fridge.
Sherlock rested his head on your shoulder and wrapped an arm around you as he used the other to grab the milk. ''Why don't we cook something?''
You turned your head to look at him, raising your eyebrow in amusement. ''You want us to cook something?''
''Yes.''
''Sherlock, neither of us knows how to cook.'' You laughed.
He straightened up and shrugged. ''How hard can it be?''
''Alright.'' You hummed, chuckling to yourself as you grabbed the necessary ingredients for pancakes. Sherlock was lucky to have you, at least there were groceries to cook with now. You placed everything on the counter along with a few bowls and plates and got to work.
''Step one,'' Sherlock announced, grabbing a bowl and setting it in front of him. He stared at it and frowned. ''Love, what is step one?''
You grinned. ''I think we combine the dry ingredients first, then the wet ones and mix them together.''
He nodded. ''Right, that sounds like it will work.'' He grabbed the eggs and the milk and began throwing them in his bowl, not taking proportions or anything for that matter into account as you started to combine the dry ingredients.
You looked up at Sherlock's concentrated face as he was stirring his mixture and suddenly had an idea. You bit your lip, fighting your inevitable giggles. You scooped up some flour out of its container and chucked it at his face.
It left a nice, powdered finish from his mouth up to his cheekbone. You couldn't hold back anymore and burst out laughing. ''Flour suits you.''
He glared at you before dipping his own hand in the container and smashing it in your face. The flour went absolutely everywhere; into your hair, on your face and on Sherlock's fancy robe.
This meant war.
You started running around the kitchen together, throwing one ingredient after another at each other. Soon enough, you, Sherlock and the kitchen were a complete mess.
You stood still, panting heavily and then burst out laughing at the sight of each other.
''I don't think we followed the recipe correctly.'' He chuckled.
You shook your head. ''Oh, what went wrong?'' You joked.
He walked over to you and pressed a flour-y kiss to your lips. ''Let's get cleaned up.''
Mycroft Holmes:
He took a deep breath and straightened his suit and tie as he looked in the mirror. The government official had never been this nervous in his life. He had always distanced himself from those type of emotions, and always managed to keep himself calm.
But this time, he couldn't do that even if he tried.
All it had taken was one woman- one fantastically beautiful woman to break the thick walls he had built around himself over the years. You had seen right through him and his cold exterior and that freaked him out more than any criminal ever could.
You had intrigued him so much on your first encounter, he couldn't help himself and just had to invite you to dinner.
To his great relief, you had agreed rather happily and now, the supposed 'Ice Man' was preparing for his very first date with you.
After some minor adjustments, he was satisfied with the way he looked and headed out. Though the extra weight around his stomach upset him greatly, he was the only person who'd ever notice and repeating that thought over and over again to himself gave him the bit of confidence he needed for this date.
He soon arrived at the restaurant and saw that you had already arrived. He politely thanked his driver before stepping out of the vehicle and approached you.
You stood up as you saw him and smiled warmly. ''Mycroft, good to see you again,'' you beamed.
''Likewise.'' He smiled, inviting you in for a brief embrace. ''Shall we?'' He asked, motioning to go inside.
You nodded and accepted his outstretched arm. Together, you entered the lavish restaurant and allowed a waiter to guide you to your seats. Mycroft pulled the chair back for you and you thanked him as you sat down.
He sat down as well and smiled nervously at you. ''It's rather pleasant here, I'm glad you agreed to join me,'' he said, attempting to start a conversation.
''Thank you for inviting me, Mycroft. It is indeed lovely,'' you replied.
Immediately after that, a silence fell at your table. You looked around the room as Mycroft nervously straightened out his utensils.
Luckily, the waiter arrived at your table and broke the awkward moment. ''Here are two menus for you to look at. Order whenever you'd like.'' His voice held a thick, French accent and you couldn't help but giggle at the stereotype.
''Thank you,'' Mycroft said. ''May we also see the wine list?''
''Of course, sir. I'll go get it for you.''
You scanned the card quickly before looking up at your date. ''I presume you have been here before. Any recommendations I should take into account?''
He smiled. ''Well, for dessert, I'd say the cheesecake is an excellent choice, but for starters...'' He trailed off, looking at the card intensely as his finger tapped against his lip. ''Why not start with a light salad or perhaps a soup?''
''Sounds good to me.''
When the waiter returned, you both ordered the food you wanted and a bottle of wine, though soon he left and conversation topics were already getting scarce.
You both looked at one another with nervous gazes, which turned into laughter. ''This isn't going very well, is it?'' Mycroft questioned, chuckling.
You copied his expression and shook your head. ''I suppose we're just shy. Why don't we start over? Tell me about yourself.''
''Shouldn't the lady go first?''
You laughed. ''Alright, as you wish.''
You started off by telling him about your job and passions in life, which he returned. There were a few more hiccups here and there, but eventually, the conversation seemed to flow as you talked and laughed together.
The tense awkwardness had worn off and made room for plenty of enjoyment, definitely leading up to an equally wonderful second date.
Jim Moriarty:
The heavy pounding of your feet echoed through the hall as you ran to your boyfriend's office. You were beyond excited to tell him about your day.
It had started out rather upsetting. As always, Jim had insisted you'd go out and explore the city. Having only just moved in with him in a place that wasn't all too familiar to you, you didn't know many people and didn't have friends to spend time with.
It worried him from time to time, especially when he had to go take care of longer jobs. He didn't want you to be lonely, so he never ceased to stop encouraging you to meet new people.
You weren't really up for it, though. You had never been a person who enjoyed putting yourself out there and usually, you avoided social interactions. They made you feel uncomfortable and weird. Besides, you had Jim and plenty of friends on the internet, you didn't need to meet new ones.
However, Jim kept on nagging and even went as far as locking you out the door to get you to explore the city and make new friends. You had been angry at first, but admitted defeat and decided to listen to him. And to your surprise, it had turned out to be great.
You rushed into his office, slamming the door shut behind you.
Jim lowered the gun he had grabbed and sighed. ''Darling, you startled me. I was about to shoot you.''
''Yes, yes, never mind that. I have news!'' You exclaimed.
He raised his eyebrow. ''Do you now?'' He grinned. ''See, that's what happens when you leave the flat once in a while.''
You rolled your eyes and sat down on Jim's lap, the chair squeaking beneath you two. ''Remember when you told me to go outside and make friends?'' You asked.
''Which time?'' He mocked.
You slapped his chest. ''This morning,'' you grunted. ''Remember when I refused, which led to you locking me out of the flat?''
''Yes.'' He chuckled at the thought.
''Well, even though I was quite angry with you and was out to seek revenge, I decided to listen to your advice.'' You raised your chin slightly and smiled proudly.
''I told you it couldn't hurt to be more social and interactive with people,'' he cooed. ''Tell me, who are these new friends of yours?''
''Well, I was simply wandering through the city and I got lost at one point. So I approached this group of men to ask them for directions. They seemed a bit intimidating, but I can throw a punch, so I went over to them.''
Jim nodded along to your words, his arms tightly around your middle. ''Go on.''
''At first, they were quite rude and I was starting to get angry, but then they seemed to change their minds all of a sudden when another man joined the conversation. And we began to chat and they showed me their awesome motorcycles and tattoos. They even taught me a friendship symbol and allowed me to become a part of their group.'' You chatted happily, beaming at Jim.
''A friendship symbol?''
''Yeah, I'll show you. You can join the group, too.'' You grabbed a pen and a blank paper and began to draw it like they had shown you.
Jim peered over your shoulder, an intense frown on his face. Soon, realisation dawned upon him and his eyes went wide. ''(Y/N)!'' He yelled.
You stopped drawing and looked at him with a pout. ''What?''
''That's a gang symbol. You joined a gang!''
You looked back at your paper and frowned. ''I did?''
''Yes, isn't that obvious?'' He shouted, gaze switching between you and the sign.
You shrugged. ''I thought they were just really nice guys.''
Jim sighed and rubbed his forehead. ''I'm never letting you out by yourself again,'' he muttered.
You smiled and leant against him, kissing his cheek. ''That's all I ask for.''
Greg Lestrade:
You sipped your tea and turned the page of the book you were reading. While Greg was out and about, celebrating the recent victory of the Yard with colleagues, you opted for a quiet night all by yourself to completely wind down and relax.
Moments such as these were rare. Both you and Greg had demanding and hectic jobs and neither of you had many opportunities to get a day off.
It sometimes took a toll on your relationship and the stress and pressure of your jobs certainly didn't help.
Nevertheless, the connection you had and the love for one another was strong enough to conquer every argument and bump in the road life sent your way and you were still as tight as ever.
Usually, when Greg had an office party like tonight, you'd join him and make sure he didn't drink too much; a habit of his he just couldn't seem to shake. But this time around, you were in no mood to face the disasters that were Anderson and Donovan, so you let him loose for a night.
A mutual friend had promised to look after your occasionally wild boyfriend in the hope he wouldn't get too drunk. Although, that thought didn't last long.
You heard loud laughter and heavy footsteps approach the door. It flew open and a very intoxicated Greg stumbled inside. You sighed and put down your book. The silent, relaxing evening was over.
''(Y/N)!'' Greg exclaimed. He tripped over his own feet and fell forwards, only just managing to be caught by you.
''Seems like you had a fun night,'' you grunted. You tried to drag him to the sofa, but he wasn't having any of it.
''Oooh yes, you should have been there, baby. It was amaaazing. Anderson got punched in the face,'' he slurred.
''I'm sure he did,'' you replied, holding back your laughter. ''Why don't you lie down, Love.''
He rapidly shook his head, making himself even more dizzy. ''No, (Y/N), I can't do that,'' he slurred, blinking lazily.
''And why not?''
He leaned in close and nipped on your ear. ''Because...'' Soft snores disrupted his reasoning as he passed out. His body went completely limp and you had trouble keeping him and yourself up.
''Greg, baby, wake up. Greg, you're too heavy. Please, baby.''
He hummed and slowly opened his eyes. ''(Y/N)? When did you get here?''
''Just now. Could you please stand up on your own?''
''Oh, right.'' His wobbly legs only just managed to support him as he straightened up. He flashed you a sloppy smile and ran his finger down your nose.
''What are you doing, Greg?'' You giggled.
''I'm trying to score a date with this gorgeous lady.''
You laughed. ''We don't have time for dates. You need to go to bed and sleep it off.''
He groaned. ''But that's so dull,'' he complained, sounding a lot like a young child.
''Yes, but it will save you an awful hangover.''
''Who's coming over?'' He slurred.
You rolled your eyes and sighed, a smile still evident on your face. You wrapped your arms around his waist and began to drag him to the bedroom. ''Come on, you need sleep.''
After a lot of struggling, you finally managed to drop him onto the bed. He pulled you with him and you landed on top of his chest, giggling slightly.
''Have I ever told you how good you look from this angle?'' He whispered.
''No.''
He gasped. ''You need to dump this boyfriend of yours and date me, I'll tell you every day.''
''Alright, Love. I will. First thing tomorrow.''
He nodded lazily and closed his eyes. ''I love you.''
''I love you, too.''
John Watson:
John emerged from the bathroom, stretching and yawning. ''I'm spend, let's just go straight to bed.''
You looked up from your book and smiled at him. ''Come sit,'' you said, patting the empty spot next to you.
He quickly crawled into bed and threw the duvet over both of you. ''What are you reading?'' He asked.
''Stephen King,'' you answered, showing him the cover.
''It?'' He said. ''Are you sure you want to be reading that now, Love?''
You shrugged. ''It's a good book.''
''Yes, but it's also a scary book. What if you can't sleep?''
''I'll be fine, John. It's only a story.'' You giggled.
''Alright. If you say so,'' he muttered.
You placed your book on your nightstand and lowered yourself onto the pillow so you were face-to-face with John. ''You look tired,'' you hummed.
''I am tired. Rough day at work. A colleague called in sick last-minute and I had to take over her patients. I was doubling shifts all day. It was exhausting.''
''Why did no one help you out? Surely there were other doctors available.''
He shrugged. ''Sarah sent them all to me, I could hardly refuse to treat people who are ill.''
You smiled and kissed his cheek. ''You're sweet.''
''I'm just doing my job, Love.''
''You do it amazingly.''
''Thank you,'' he whispered, smiling at you. ''I love you.''
''I love you, too.'' You shared a kiss before John turned around to switch off the lights.
In the dark, you snuggled up to him and he wrapped his arms around you, his nose buried in your hair. ''Sweet dreams, (Y/N).''
Half-way through the night, John woke up. He rubbed his eyes and got comfortable again, ready to fall back asleep when he heard you muttering. He switched on the lights and sat up.
You were panting, tear marks evident on your cheeks. Your entire body was trembling and your eyes were squeezed shut.
John couldn't hear what exactly you were saying, but he knew it couldn't be any good if you were so abnormally scared. He hooked an arm underneath your legs and behind your back and pulled you on top of his lap. His lips pressed calming kisses to your forehead as he held you tightly. ''You're dreaming, (Y/N). Everything's fine, it's not real,'' he soothed.
You continued to shake as you cried softly. ''No, please, no,'' you mumbled.
John's chest ached at seeing you so scared and distressed. His arms held you even tighter against him as he kept repeating calming words to settle you. ''It's just a dream. Calm down.''
Your eyes suddenly snapped open and your body seemed to jolt awake. You frantically looked around the room and burst into tears.
''Hey, hey, it's okay. You're fine, (Y/N).'' He gently pushed your head onto his shoulder and buried his nose in your hair, continuing to whisper soothing words to calm you.
You had a tight grip on his white shirt as images from the nightmare you had flashed before your eyes. You were starting to settle down and relax, but the fear was still lingering. ''John,'' you croaked.
He shushed you. ''I'm right here, don't worry.'' He wiped the tears from your face and kissed your head. ''Are you alright now?'' He asked.
You hid your face in his neck and nodded slightly. ''Thank you.''
''No problem, Love. I'm here for you.''
''I'm sorry for waking you up.''
''Hey, usually it's the other way around.''
You looked up at him and smiled. ''I love you.''
''I love you, too. But maybe no more reading Stephen King before bed?''
You giggled. ''I agree.''