───────────────────────

Warnings: threesome (established safeword/boundaries etc) John x reader, Sherlock is not a part of their romantic relationship, but all 3 have consented to him joining in. Oral sex (Female and male receiving), hand job, John is a little possessive, unprotected sex (as in no condom, but Implied that YN is on contraceptive eg pill/implant)

Also I haven’t proof read it. I’m poorly and am trying to crank out these smut tembers so I can get on w my requests lmao

Gif creds to owner

You were the easiest target, and Moriarty knew that by taking you, it would lead Sherlock and his little sidekick right to him. You were scared, of course, it was your first time being kidnapped and all, but you had faith that when John and Sherlock showed up, which they would, they'd have a plan.

Finally, the time came where said plan was put into action. It was John who found you. As soon as he freed you, you embraced, giving him a huge hug and a quick kiss. "Thank god, I'm so happy to see you! Where's Sherlock?"

"Taking care of Moriarty. He wants us out safe, and I told him I'd make that happen."

Then we shouldn't disappoint," you agreed. You followed John through labyrinthine hallways until you both finally made it outside. There Sherlock stood waiting for you.

"Took you long enough," he said, but then he cracked a smile and pulled you both in for a hug. He placed a kiss on your temple, then one on John's and the three of you headed for home.

Hshshsjjsnsnsns this is so funny now that I think about it. But like I always like teasing Sherlock by acting as if I don't get it. Wait I'm gonna do smthn outta this.

My Incorrect Universe Headcannon

Me, looking up and away from my phone with a cheeky grin : I love you too.

Sherlock, pretending to be mad at me: well I don't......

John,sipping tea: you're literally laying on her lap at least try being mad....

Sherlock: sHuT uP! god I'm never doing that again.....

--a week later--

John, walking in and trying not to laugh: which one was it today? How many has he sent anyway?

Me, unbothered, flipping through a book: Today was 'My favourite attractive force is Van der Waal's force. Can you feel it? I'll move closer if you can't.' He sends me 2 every day.

Sherlock*practically hanging onto me as he buries his head into my neck*: tHiS dOeSn'T mEaN aNyThInG!

Sherlock, panicking whenever someone asks him about the pickup lines:

I hope you like this 🥺. Thank you so much for that headcannon! Please do not hesitate to send more! I really like them!

For those who do not get the Van Der Waal one,

Me:*kneeling on the ground*You made one simple mistake in the case, Mycroft fixed it. Don't over react.

Sherlock: *already laying face down in a hole he dug and covering himself with dirt because Mycroft fixed it* I'm not overreacting.

John: *attempting to not know us as he whispers harshly* Both of you need to get up! 1.we're in a fucking park, 2.people are staring at us, 3. WHY ARE WE WEARING PEPPA PIG COSTUMES!?

Sherlock: IT'S FOR THE CASE JAWN!!

John: I hate you

Sherlock: NO YOU DON'T

Me*who has been in a relationship with Sherlock for quite a while *: *whispering softly to myself* Enemies to lovers, slowburn, angst with happy ending, 300k+ words

Summary: you’ve had quite enough of Sherlock’s experiments...

The skull on the mantelpiece rattled as the door to 221B slammed shut, Sherlock marching over to his chair and slumping into it, pouting like a child, whilst you stormed into the kitchen and began (rather noisily) making tea. John flicked his eyes between the two of you before sighing and settling into his own chair. The disarrayed flat remained relatively silent until-

“Oh for God’s sake!”

Followed shortly by a rather loud shatter and a disgusting squelching noise.

“Sherlock I swear to god,” you shouted, coming into the living room. You had what could only be described as rotting pigs innards splattered down your chest from where the bowl had clattered down onto you from the top shelf of the fridge. “How many times?” You asked, teeth gritting as you scraped the remaining... experiments from the fridge into the bin, “have we said, no experiments in the fridge?”

Sherlock fixed his cold blue gaze on you before cocking his eyebrow up. “Why not,” he asked nonchalantly.

“Why n- Sherlock, that fridge is a biohazard! Look at the state of me, and that’s one bowl. We eat from that fridge sherlock, and you’ve got brains and eyes and thumbs and-and-and testicles on every shelf! Everything in that fridge is contaminated, Sherlock, what if John or I ate something dodgy? Or what if Mrs Hudson needed some milk and she ends up with staphylococci? But of course, that doesn’t matter, because you’re Sherlock Bloody Holmes and all of us silly little mortals are beneath you and-Ow!”

While ranting you had sliced the palm of your hand on a shard of smashed bowl. “See, you utter cock,” you said, unable to stop the tears welling in your eyes. “It’s dangerous and you don’t even care!”

The detective had stood up as soon as you yelped in pain, his placid expression quickly turning to one of concern. He quickly walked over to you to inspect the damage, taking you by the arm to the kitchen sink to clean off your wound.

Despite the stinging pain blinding your senses slightly, so were still so goddamned angry. You pushed him away repeatedly, staining his crisp white shirt with your crimson blood as tears flowed down your face. “No! No, stop it, you arse! You don’t care! You don’t care about anyone but yourself and your stupid mind palace! I’m sick of you ignoring everyone who loves you just so you can run off into your own fantasy land! I’m sick of you lying to our faces, telling us you’re clean, when you’ve been high off your tits for weeks! You don’t even care! You don’t care about any of us and we care so much for you!”

You pushed him away once more and stormed off to the bathroom. John sighed and stood up, grabbing the mini first aid kit he kept in the cabinet by the window. “I’ll sort it. You,” he said firmly, glaring at the brunette, “start clearing out the fridge. Scrub it, bleach it. Do the same to the counters, the table, the microwave, the kettle, all of it, Sherlock,” he said lowly.

“I... John I’m sorry,”

“It’s not me you should be apologising to and you know it,”

Silence.

Then-

“Will she be alright?”

John rounded on him and nodded. “I’ll patch her up, see if I can talk her around. But you’ve got some work to do yourself. She’s overwhelmed, otherwise she wouldn’t mind,”

Half an hour later, you heard the front door click shut. You winced slightly as John applied antiseptic to the cut. “Sorry,” he said gently. “But god knows how long those experiments had been there for,”

You nodded and sat in comfortable silence as he patched you up in the bathroom of 221B. “He’s a knob,” you eventually muttered, wiping away the last of your tears. John chuckles softly and dressed the wound neatly.

“I know. But we’ve had words. He’s blitzed the kitchen, and we’ve agreed to keep his more... messy experiments in his own bedroom or at the lab. I think he’s gone out to get fresh milk and bread, and he’ll come back with his tail between his legs and a face like a smacked arse... it needed to be said though, especially about the drugs. I’ve spoken to Mycroft, so we can keep him safe too. You shouldn’t be wearing yourself down like this worrying over him, and I think he’s starting to realise it, even if he’s got a damn funny way of showing it. There, done,” he sat, patting your shoulder comfortingly.

When you emerged from the bathroom, Sherlock was stood in the centre of the sitting room, fidgeting sligjtly.

“YN, I’m deeply sorry. My behaviour has been... immature, reckless, dangerous... the fridge is clean and my experiments have been... removed. I apologise for my actions, my words, all of it. I saw you growing annoyed but I didn’t observe just how much it affected y-”

“Sherlock? Shut up,” you mumbled, though you couldn’t help by smile slightly.