Neutral Evil Writer

Characters: Mycroft X Daughter!Reader

Universe: Sherlock

Warnings: Sepsis, mention of amputation and sickness, neglect, hospitals and medical equipment (tube down throat), near death expierience

Pt1: https://lazydoodlesandfanfic.tumblr.com/post/615131490488139776/a-need-for-attention-mycroft-x

Request: Hello! I just finish to read the A need for Attention. Mycroft x daughter reader. And it deserve a part two damn you leave us a cliffhanger. I love how you portray Mycroft as him but I could see the affection of losing someone. Can you do a part two. Could be angsty but fluff same time? Please. Hope you still accept this. 

It had been 3 days since Mycroft had gotten the call, informing him that you, his daughter, was being rushed to the hospital due to a sepsis infection, and while the surgery had been successful, you had been in a coma ever since. Mycroft, for once, refused to focus on anything other than you. 

Requested by: @misunderstoodrogue (I can’t seemed to tag you?), Forever tag: @grey-girl, @missmelodramatic, @spxce-frxckles, @theletterhart, @elllie-does-the-posts, @coupsnflower

You jumped back hearing the loud knocks on your bedroom door. – “Are you dolling yourself for a fashion show? Hurry the hell up!” – you heard your boyfriends voice yell out. Looking at the clock on your wall, you squealed soft. In a haste, you putted on your shoes. You left your hair for what it was, doing nothing special with it. Almost tripping over your feet, you hurdled to your door, pulling it open. – “Ready.” – you spoke with a smile, seeing your boyfriend glare at you with crossed arms. He observed you from top to bottom, tapping his foot against the floor. – “What the bloody hell are you wearing?” – he asked, making you look down at yourself. – “Clothes?” – you replied, taking a hold of your blouse to present it to him. – “You call that clothes? You know what I call that, asking for attention? Is there some other boy you want drooling over you?”

You quickly shook your head. You looked down at yourself a second time, starting to question your choice of clothing. – “I thought it would look nice?” – Your boyfriend exhaled deep, looking around. He noticed a sweater hanging over the sofa from yesterday. – “Put this on to cover yourself up!” – He threw the sweater in your face, making you catch it quickly. Thinking he might be right; you changed your blouse for the sweater.

Steve Rogers x daughter!reader

Summary: Steve realizes that his past behavior may have cost him the love of his daughter.

A/n: Hello! This is the second part to my Steve Rogers series! I hope you like it and also I hope y’all get the little references I put in these lol💕

Masterlist

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“What do you mean Natasha taught you?”

Oh shit.

That was the collective thought between you, Nat, Clint, and Tony. It was well known among the team that Steve didn’t want his daughter learning ANY form of self defense, but those four thought that was ridiculous. She was Captain America’s daughter, she definitely would need to fight off an enemy sooner or later.

“well…nat taught me the basics on how to defend myself, she said it would come in handy someday.” You say quietly, picking the thread on your sleeve rather than looking at your father.

“Romanoff, you taught her how to fight?” Steve said, fury bleeding into his eyes. “I made it perfectly clear–”

“Steve, its unreasonable for her not to know how to fight, she’s the daughter of one of the worlds greatest defenders. If she doesn’t fight, she’s dead.”, Natasha said bluntly, staring Steve in the face as the other Avengers grew uncomfortable.

“She’s perfectly fine, it’s not like she leaves the Tower anyway.”

“Because if she did, you’d have someone follow her. It’s creepy, man”  Tony butts in with a roll of his eyes. By now both Bruce and Thor had silently left the room, as both of them would be useless in this conversation.

“Oh, so Tony Stark is gonna teach me how to raise a kid? Isn’t that ironic.”

“It’s not like you’re doing any better on your own. All Y/n does is stay in her room and write in that book of hers, she doesn’t even talk to people her own age.”

“It’s safer that way and you all know it” Steve snaps, refusing to even look your way. “ I set those rules for a reason, and I don’t appreciate my team mate or friends going behind my back and breaking them.”

“Look, Steve we love you, but the way you’re going about this whole parenting situation is completely wrong.” Clint finally says. “ I get that you were thrusted into this role, we all do. But man, you can protect Y/n from everything and it’s not healthy for her to be locked away in the tower like–”

“Like some modern day Rapunzel” 

“Thank you, Tony.”

“You all know the reason why she’s not allowed to leave. Its just safer that way.” Steve says, expecting the conversation to be over. “ Now, we’ll talk about this when we get back to –”

“You don’t lock me away for my protection” You say looking up with a determined face. Steve, obviously stunned you called him out like that turned to you and said

“ Excuse me?” 

“ It was never about me. If you wanted me to be safe, you would have taught me how to defend myself as soon as you could. You would have told the world about me, just to make sure everyone knows not to mess with me.” You say, your brow furrowed. “ You say its for safety, but who’s safety is it really for?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Steve says in a low, slow tone. 

“Everytime I come in a room, you tense up like I’m going to attack you.” You start to say, realizing that once you reveal what you noticed, things will never be the same. “ You monitor everything I do. You never allow me to be alone. You don’t talk to be about missions and don’t allow anyone else to.” You stand up off the couch. “ You refuse to acknowledge my mother, and won’t even let read the journal she left me.”

“That’s enough Y/n”

“No!” You shout. “ It’s not fair I don’t understand why you treat me like this.” Steve looks at you in surprise. 

“ Y/n, you don’t understand.”

“ I do. You don’t trust me.” You finally say. “ You haven’t from day one, and I don’t know why. It’s not like a six year old is a Hydra agent by disguise.” 

Hearing this Steve freezes. He knows that all this surveillance was unnecessary. And deep down he knew that you could never hurt not even a fly. but that tiny voice in his head got the best of him. And even though he grew to love you more than he’d like to admit, the thought of you being am enemy scared him. 

“ You are a threat.” Steve says stubbornly. “ You came out of nowhere, with nothing but a note in the middle of the night. Your mother is nowhere to be found, and I have no idea who to even look for. You look nothing like me and defiantly don’t act like me.” 

Hearing these words is like a knife being repeatedly stabbed in your heart. It’s one thing to think that your dad doesn’t love you, it’s another to hear them directly from his mouth. 

“ I have done nothing for you to treat me like this. I have done nothing to lose your trust. I didn’t ask for my mother to leave me here with you. It’s not my fault.” You say, tears starting to well up in your eyes. “ That robot asked me to go with him you know?”

The whole room freezes. You never mentioned that when Clint picked you up from the Tower.

“ He asked me to go with him, because he said I had no one. I had nothing to loose. And now” You let tears run down your face. “ Now that I know he’s right, I still wouldn’t go with him. Because I would NEVER want someone to get hurt because of me.” And with that you pushed past the group of superheros and ran outside. You didn’t know where you were going, but you had to get out of that house.

You walk into town and into a bookshop that was surprisingly open at this hour. The clerk looked at you in annoyance as you wandered the isles quietly. Picking up a copy of Romeo and Juliet, you walk toward the counter to pay.

“Tch, Romeo and Juliet?” The cashier says

“What about it?” you ask, puzzled that he cared enough to mention it. 

“Nothing if you’re thirteen and never had a boyfriend.”

“Oh really?” You say, eyes lighting up at the chance to talk to someone your own age without the gaze of an agent boring into your back.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Meanwhile, there was a tense silence in the house. Steve left with the words you told him rattling in his brain. 

“You know, Y/n always used to come to me for help picking out the perfect father’s day gift for you.” Clint said breaking the silence in the room. “ She insisted we wake up hours before you to go to the shops just to surprise you. She loved wrapping the gift and the thought of making you happy.” He smiled bitterly. “ I loved every second of it, watching her reminded me of my own family. It broke my heart to see her little face deflate when you barely acknowledged the gift and treated it like it was a bomb or something.” He shakes his head and walks out. Natasha follows him and says ‘ Its late, it’s not safe for her to be out there alone, I’m going to look for her.”. Then she’s gone. Leaving only Tony and Steve in the living room. It’s quiet for a few minutes. They can hear Clint playing with his children, Lila laughing as Cooper and Clint chase her. 

“ You know, all my life I had to wonder if my dad loved me too.” Tony said suddenly. “ I guess that’s why I got along with Y/n so well.”

Steve sat on the couch and sighed. “ I guess I could’ve approached this differently.”

“That’s your problem Rogers, you treat her like a mission. She’s a kid. Even I know that you can’t raise a kid that way.”

Steve exhaled through his nose. “So, what do you think I should do?”  

Tony rolled his eyes again.” Well for one, you can go look for your fourteen year old daughter who ran out in the middle of the night in an area she doesn’t know.”

Steve’s eyes widened and he shot up, “ Shit, I- I have to go find her.” and with that he ran out of the living room, leaving Tony alone as he heard him shout 

“Language!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It didn’t take long for Steve to get into town. The only problem he really faced was figuring out where you might be. Almost everything was closed except for a liquor store and some bars. He started to panic, as he started to think about the possibility of you being hurt or kidnapped or–

“Hey bomb pop, over here” someone whispers

Steve looks around to see Natasha standing in front of a bookshop. He jogs up to her and asks

“Nat what are you–” “SHHH, look” she points into the window.

At first Steve didn’t know what he was looking at. All he saw was two kids flirting on some bean bags. But then he looked closer and realized that was his kid flirting on some bean bags. He got ready to burst in there and drag her out, which surprised him.

“What are you doing” Natasha harshly whispered, “This is the first time in years y/n has talked to someone her age, and I will NOT let you ruin it.”

“But does it have to be a boy” Steve whines, then he shrinks back as Nat glares at him. 

“You have no right to play protective daddy right now, you–”

“Dad? Nat? ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It’s been about an hour since you started talking to Levi, the cashier. Even though he insulted your book choice

“It’s a play about two bratty kids who think they’re in love and then kill themselves, its pathetic”

He’s interesting. He has this harsh exterior that is refreshing to you. You liked that he didn’t handle you with kids gloves like the rest of the Avengers did. He let you stay behind after closing as long as you helped him clean, but you didn’t last long because apparently you “cleaned like a blind person with no hands” whatever that means. After cleaning you two sat and talked about music and his friends. It was nice. That was until you felt eyes on you.

Looking out the window you noticed two figures staring at you. One petite red head and a tall blonde to be more specific. Rolling your eyes, you say goodbye to Levi and thank him for one of the best nights you’ve had in a while. As you left he did something that surprised you.

“Hey brat, here’s my number.” He says as he gives you an old receipt, “ Don’t expect me to text you all night, I have a life too.” 

You just smile and say thank you, blushing as you realize this was your first friend in years. You put the number in your pocket and walk outside. 

“Dad? Nat?” You ask, cutting their little squabbling short. “What are you two doing here?” 

Nat and Steve stand up straight. 

“It was getting late and I was worried so I came to find you” Natasha said, “ But it seems to me that you were quite alright in there” She finishes with a smirk. You blush as you try to think of a retort. Before you say anything, you hear your dad clear his throat. You roll your eyes.

“Don’t worry, I wasn’t getting intel on how to kill you or whatever you think what will happen if i make friends.” You again push past the two avengers, your good mood spoiled as you walk away. You hear some harsh whispering then your name is called. 

“Y/n” your father calls, “I think we need to talk.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Did you miss me? Either way, I’m back with a short series. This is the first and shortest part, I hope you enjoy it. You can find my other imagines HERE 

“I have a present for you, a game of sorts, you’ll love it,” Moriarty smiled as he spoke to Sherlock. He could barely hold back his excitement at what fun this was. 

“And what is this game?” Sherlock asked feigning boredom. 

“Oh, straight to the point Sherlock, I love it,” Moriarty beamed. 

“I haven’t got all day,” Sherlock replied becoming impatient.

“It involves all of your favorite things: murder, time restraints, puzzles, logic, etcetera,” 

“And what if I chose not to play,” Sherlock questioned.

“You would never,”  Moriarty answered completely sure of himself. 

“You’re right, what are the rules?” Sherlock asked. 

“One Murder, and it’s a good one. Solve the case, catch the killer, blah blah blah, get the antidote,” Moriarty explained.

“Antidote?” Sherlock asked.

“This is the good part. I have poisoned one of the people you care about. That person has roughly-” he checked his watch, “36 hours before the poison kills them.”

“Anything else?” Sherlock asked.

“Anything else?” Moriarty mocked.

“That’s it, Sherlock. A nice little game to distract you for the next day and a half. You’re welcome.” Moriarty smiled expectantly.

“What do you get out of this?” Sherlock asked. 

“Everyone seems to think that you are so clever. Maybe you are, maybe you’re not. This is a test to see whether or not you are a worthy adversary. I hope that you don’t disappoint. Now, what is that thing you say? The game is on isn’t it?” 

And with that Moriarty exited. Sherlock would have threatened him or went after him but he knew by now that Moriarty was too smart to not have an escape plan. There were probably snipers aiming at him for the entirety of that conversation. He waited a sufficient amount of time before exiting and beckoning for a cab to take him back to Baker Street.

This is part one of a two part Sherlock x Reader imagine. It is full of angst and definitely something different. Fair warning it contains possible triggers involving a kidnapping. For more of my writing click here. Otherwise, I hope you enjoy the emotional rollercoaster that is this fic.

The first time that Sherlock was semi-aware of himself, his mind was uncomprehending and imperceptive, which was a first. He was striving against everything to regain control and wake himself but instead, he found an unnerving nothingness. It was as if his mind was entirely blank. The second ‘awakening’, after an unknown amount of time, was not much different. Sherlock struggled to regain clarity, but was seemingly unequipped to do anything about it. His mind moved so slowly, that it might as well not have been moving at all. His sense of awareness and limited charge over consciousness once again faded.

“Sherlock? Sherlock are you okay? Wake up. Please wake up,” a voice pleaded.

But while it resonated as familiar, Sherlock simply could not connect the voice with a name or face. His mind was still moving too slow, at least now though he was aware of this fact. Something was wrong, very wrong. Sherlock was by all accounts locked out of his mind palace. He couldn’t remember anything or really register his surroundings. Something was interfering with the chemistry of his brain and prohibiting him from ‘Sherlocking’. He knew that it was likely some new hybrid of a sedative and a brain dampener. But how he knew that and what that meant, were completely lost on him.

“It’s no use,” another voice, this one raising a red flag with Sherlock for some unknown reason, beamed.

“You’re not going to get away with this,” the homely voice quipped.

“I already have though, haven’t I? Maybe if you weren’t so ordinary you’d understand that,” the villainous voice challenged.

Sherlock knew that voice, but who was it? And why couldn’t he wake up or remember anything?

“I may be ordinary, but at least I’m not a coward,” the first voice spat back.

“I am not a coward,” the man growled.

“Then why won’t you fight fair?” the girl questioned boldly. After waiting for an answer she added, “It’s because you know you wouldn’t stand a chance. You might be clever, but one on one, without your precious minions, your cheap tricks, and threats, you are nothing more than that, clever. And even on his worst day, Sherlock is more than you’ll ever be. And you know that, otherwise you wouldn’t be going through such great lengths to constrain him.” 

“You have too much faith in him and that will be your downfall. I will show you, don’t worry,” he promised.

Sherlock could hear a door being closed. He knew both of those voices. He knew that something was very wrong, but he couldn’t sort it out. His mind was slowly beginning to function again, but it was agonizing for Sherlock to be cognizant of his deficits. He pushed himself to remember, to wake, to do something, but it was all happening in its own time.

He heard the door opening again, this time noting that there was no sound of it being unlocked. This must mean… it meant that…. Ugh! Why couldn’t he just think!

“What are you doing?” the girl’s voice asked, he could hear her physically struggling. “Where are you taking me?” she questioned, fear evident in her voice.  “Stop, no, please don’t do this,” she pleaded, being forced out of the room.

Okay, so the girl. She was someone that he knew. His instincts told him that she was someone very dear to him. She was in danger. The two of them were captured by the man with the weird Irish accent. That man was the one holding them here. She knew him, so he and she had met him before. The door wasn’t locked which meant that they were bound. Otherwise, she would have been able to escape. As he was regaining more and more of his memory and brain power, he decided to redirect his attention.

He could not force himself to wake up, which meant he was most likely still sedated. His senses were very limited. His brain was foggy, but becoming less and less so. He was able to access his memories concerning his family and childhood, feeling somewhat reassured that Mycroft would have his people searching for him. He forced himself farther into his mind palace. He was going through places and people, starting to piece his life together until he saw a door for 221B. He tried to open the door, but it was locked. He had never been locked out of his own mind palace before. Some part of him knew that “unlocking” this door was the key to everything he needed to know about the girl, the man, and their current arrangement. But he had absolutely no idea how to accomplish that task. 

He resigned himself to focusing instead on regaining consciousness. He tried to start small, focusing on his breathing and then trying to move his fingers or toes. He just needed to reclaim control over his movements and then he’d be able to force himself awake.

Before he could make any progress, he heard the door open again. Someone, presumably a male carrying something substantial, based on breathing and time in between steps, had entered. The thing that he had been carrying was dropped roughly and then Sherlock had heard a click and the rustling of chains. Something was being hoisted up.

As the man left, Sherlock realized his mistake. It was not something being hoisted up, but rather someone. He speculated that it was his mystery girl. She was obviously unconscious and worse for wear. He felt an instinctual urge to make sure she was okay but was unable to act on it. He tried to focus, but it was becoming harder and harder as the exertion and exhaustion of fighting the drugs had taken over.

When he regained awareness, he was frustrated to realize he was still unconscious, though it was less and less present. He wondered how long this had been going on. Surely, someone had noticed and would come for him. He then remembered that he was not alone in this. However, as he listened to his surroundings it did seem that he was alone in the room again. He wondered how long the girl had been gone for this time. He hoped that she was okay. She was strong, that is what he loved about her.

Wait-

He loved her. He knew that now, it was consuming. She wasn’t just some girl that he knew. She was someone he loved. He needed to wake up, to remember, to protect her. He ran through the entire conversation he had heard between her and the man replaying it word by word.

“Maybe if you weren’t so ordinary you’d understand that” the man had said.

Ordinary. That word. It stuck out, but why?

“Aren’t ordinary people so adorable?”

“You’re ordinary. You’re on the side of the angels.”

“And now I’ve got to go back to playing with the ordinary people. And it turns out your ordinary just like all of them.”

“She is nothing Sherlock, she is ordinary, just another plaything for you to impress.”

Sherlock heard the pieces of conversations playing in the man’s voice. He was so close to remembering him and his name. It was there, he could feel it. Now he had a new goal. He replayed every word that the girl had said, hoping to spark a similar reaction, but it didn’t work. 

The door opened, and this time there were three people who entered. One, the girl, was being chained up again, involuntarily whimpering. Her injuries were worse now, she was obviously being tortured. The man who had restrained her left the room leaving one other in the room. 

“Aw look at him, isn’t he adorable when he’s sleeping, brain wearing away to nothing,” the irish man spoke. 

“Leave him alone,” the girl tried.

“I really don’t think it is him you should worry about,” he said moving closer towards her. Sherlock heard her struggling away from him, “funny, all that blood really brings out your eyes.” 

“What is that you really want?”  she asked, her tough facade starting to falter.

“This. Exactly this. I want to watch your hope fade until you beg me to end you. I want to burn the heart out of Sherlock. Turning the hero into the villain. It’s as simple as that,” he informed leaving the room, calling out “I’m looking forward to our next little session, Y/n.”

And that was it. That was what Sherlock needed to unlock the door of his mind palace. And then it all came back to him. Mrs. Hudson, John, Moriarty, Lestrade, his cases, his violin, his flat, and above all else you. Y/f/n Y/l/n. His brilliant, kind-hearted, resilient, beautiful, girlfriend. The two of you were walking home from a date when you were both attacked and captured. He didn’t know how long ago that was now, but surely everyone was searching for you.

With that, he had full control of his mind, and he slowly brought himself back to consciousness, fighting the sedative. He managed to maneuver his arm to pull out the IV. He forced his eyes open, wincing at the harsh light. He laid still for a moment, allowing his body to process what it needed to do. As much as his mind was restored, physically he would still be affected. He worked on moving his muscles to speed up his circulation. 

“Sherlock?” you all but whispered.  You wanted to believe that you were seeing him move but knew that it very well could be your mind playing tricks on you. Tears streamed down your face.

But then he looked at you, and as your eyes met any doubt you had faded away. 

“I’m so sorry,” he said, struggling to conceal his own emotion as he took in your form. You were chained up in nothing but a bra and your shorts. There were deep cuts littering your bruised and shaking body. You likely had multiple fractured if not broken ribs. You were held up by your wrists which were raw and also bleeding. Your hair was damp which led him to believe that waterboarding or forced intermittent drowning was involved. Beyond that, he could tell that you hadn’t slept, ate, or drank anything.

“How long have we been here?” he forced himself to ask.

“I think three days, it’s kind of hard to tell,” you answered.

“And do you have any idea where we are?”

“Not really, just that there are two levels and we never leave the basement.”

“Okay, okay, that’s fine,” Sherlock muttered, already starting to plan an escape.

“Sherlock? Are you okay?”

“Me? I should be asking you that,” he said forcing himself to sit up, groaning slightly at the numbness.

“It looks a lot worse than it is, I’m just glad you’re awake,” you tried to smile.

“I’m going to get us out of here,” Sherlock promised.

“Take your time,” you tried to joke. But the laugh turned into coughing which was extremely painful. 

“Just try to conserve your energy,” he said trying to hide the worry in his voice.

“I love you,” you whispered, allowing the exhaustion to take over, knowing that you were safe now.

“I love you too,” he replied.

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Hi guys! This mini-series is based off an episode of criminal minds called ‘Amplification’. You can find more of my writing on my Masterlist here.

Working alongside Sherlock and John  had put you in numerous compromising and even dangerous situations. It was not a rare occurrence to find yourself in harm’s way, but that never discouraged you. The way you had always viewed it was that John and Sherlock had gotten on fine before you, and they would continue in that fashion if for some reason you were incapacitated. Furthermore, you felt that there was no nobler way to die than saving/protecting the lives of others, especially those you cared about. This mindset of yours never faltered, even during “The Case of the Killer Lightbulbs” as John named it on his blog.

You were at the market when you got the call informing you to stop what you were doing and go outside where a car would be waiting for you. You were used to it by now, Mycroft was known to be the dramatic type. The ride was long and you wondered what the nature if thus case would be: Murder? Blackmail? Theft? National Security? Or, was it just Mycroft trying to get information on his little brother again? Whatever your thought process was during that car ride, it did not prepare you for what was coming next.

You were taken to Scotland yard which was swarming with various officials from detectives, to the military, to the CDC. You were led through to a room where Mycroft, John, and Sherlock sat.

“Okay, you may go now, shut the door on the way out,” Mycroft said to your escort.

As she did, he passed a folder to you, Sherlock, and John and began debriefing, “Yesterday 24 people checked into local area hospitals, all of them with the same symptoms, all of them had been at the same park around 4 pm yesterday. Now at just after 8 am, 14 of the 24 are dead. Lung failure and black legions among a myriad of other symptoms.” 

“Anthrax?” John asked.

“Anthrax doesn’t kill this fast,” you replied.

“Unless it has been genetically altered,” Sherlock surmised, “What do we know about this strain?”

“The spores are weaponized, reduced to a spiral ideal that attacks deep in the lungs. They are both odorless and invisible. The normal antidote is not effective against this strain,” Mycroft explained.

“Why exactly are we here?” John asked.

“We believe that this was a trial run, but don’t know what for. An outbreak in London would be detrimental, so we’ve called you lot in,” Mycroft replied, “You have full access to any resources you deem necessary,” he added handed you special badges, “Finally, here is Cipro, we don’t know if it’s effective against this strain, but it’s worth a shot. I wish you the best of luck.”

You, Sherlock, and John downed the pills and were left alone in the office as Mycroft had to step out.

“I can’t believe this is happening,” you said, still trying to get your head around the idea. 

“It isn’t the first time, and most definitely won’t be the last,” Sherlock replied. 

“So, where do we even start?” John asked.

Over the next two days, the three of you visited the hospital and spoke with remaining victims, analyzed the strain in the lab, located a second but smaller attack that happened weeks ago but only affected 4 people, and started to narrow in on a suspect list. You also created a list of possible targets, however it was too large to do any good. The three of you had come to realize that you were looking for someone with a significant background concerning biological agents. You knew that the person you were looking for most likely was in cohorts with the military or CDC and had a relation with the bookstore that was the target of the first attack. It wasn’t long before Sherlock had discovered who was behind it all.

This led you and Sherlock along with a team from the CDC to the home of Alfred Wilson to further investigate. John was at the hospital lending his medical assistance. And Mycroft and his men went to Wilson’s workplace and other known frequented locations. You and Sherlock stood outside as you waited for the all-clear.

“While they are doing that we should probably take a look around,” Sherlock decided.

The two of you walked towards the back of the house looking for anything out of the ordinary. Sherlock was distracted by a phone call from Mycroft explaining that the lab was clean and Wilson was still MIA. Sherlock turned to inform you of this news but realized that you had wandered off. 

“Y/n?” he called and looked for you. He found the path that you must have followed. “Y/n,” he called again. He saw the shack and darted towards it, “Y/n!”

That is when you came into his line of vision, “Sherlock get back! Get back, get out of here!” you shouted frantically locking the door. 

“Y/n? What are you doing? I don’t-” he started, but then he saw the broken container of white powder and the ventilation system. This was where Wilson had developed and even tested the strains. And you had already been exposed, which meant that if the Cipros was ineffective as it most likely would be against this mutated strain, you had less than 24 hours. 

He called Mycroft who got the necessary people there. They wanted to get you out and to the hospital as soon as possible, that was not your plan though.

“Y/n, the CDC is here, they are preparing to extract you,” Sherlock explained through the phone.

“There’s no point, I’ve already been infected, I might as well work to solve the case,” you argued.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Mycroft interjected.

“Sherlock, take me off of speakerphone,” you ordered.

“Alright, tell me what you see,” Sherlock humored you.

“Alright, well first off Dr. Wilson is dead, so we can rule him out. There are two workspaces and two sets of handwriting on the papers. So he either had a partner or protege,” you paused as a fit of coughing took over, “I’ve read through everything in here, the cure isn’t here. But maybe they can take the spores and reverse engineer them.” 

“Okay, Y/n. Is there anything else that sticks out to you?” he asked.

You were going to continue but the coughing took over again. You hung up the phone to spare Sherlock. By the time you caught your breath John was entering in an orange hazmat suit.

 “Orange is not your color,” you joked, “On a serious note how are the patients at the hospital?”

“Right now, let’s focus on you,” he redirected, “how are you feeling?”

“I’m fine,” you replied.

“Are you sure? I could give you something to ease the pain,” he explained.

“I’m fine and I don’t want to take any narcotics,” you snapped.

“Okay, no narcotics, got it,” he confirmed, “how can I help?” he asked.

“I read through all of the papers and none of them talk about the cure, but I think that it has to be in here somewhere. Probably hidden considering that Dr. Wilson was a former military scientist. He was paranoid and most likely tried to protect the cure from his partner. So look for something innocuous, something that you wouldn’t expect,” you explained, starting to feel slightly light-headed. That is when your phone rang again.

“Yes Sherlock?” you answered.

“How are you feeling?” he asked.

“That is irrelevant, why’d you call?”

“Mycroft said that Wilson’s co-workers were unaware of him having a partner. Is there anything else you can tell me about him?” 

You went over to the desk again scanning for what you missed. It was like it was on the tip of your tongue, but your brain was too foggy to see it. 

“Just list off everything that is on their desks,” Sherlock said wishing that he was in there with you.

“Wait, I’ve got it,” you replied, “Dr. Wilson was a professor. He has syllabi and a framed picture of him teaching. I even read a paper that he graded, or so I thought. He wouldn’t let just anyone into his lab but clearly,” you started before being interrupted by a wave of painful coughing, “he valued himself as an educator. What if the second desk wasn’t a partner, but a student? And the paper, it was formatted like a thesis. See if Mycroft can crossmatch the list of Wilson’s students and/or students at the university that Wilson taught at with past employees or customers of the bookstore.” 

“Okay, will do,” he said hanging up.

“Y/n, you did good, now we need to get you to the hospital,” John tried.

“Okay,” you conceded knowing that there wasn’t anything else you could do there. A couple of CDC workers came and took you to a decontamination shower that they had set up, with John close behind. 

“John, go help Sherlock,” you instructed.

“I’m gonna stay here and see you off to the hospital,” he insisted.

“I am about to be stripped down and bathed, my pride can’t take the thought of you witnessing that. Besides the way I see it, you can either stay here and watch me die or go out and prevent it from happening.”

“If you’re sure,” John replied, feeling torn. 

“Go on,” you reassured him.

———————

Tags: @fanfictionsilove​ @delightfulheartdream​ 

AN: This is loosely based off of The Final Problem and is Sherlock x Reader. There is violence and death, so consider yourself warned. I hope you enjoy and as always feedback is appreciated. 

Emotional Context. Sherlock had once been able to deny its importance, instead, governing himself with logic and reasoning. However, his connections with his friends and the people who cared about him had started to change his mind on such matters. This came with both benefits and negatives as it had opened him up to new vulnerabilities and pain, especially now. As it was during this time that he discovered that his sister was more than just a suspicion. In fact, Eurus was a secret that scared his dear brother Mycroft more than anything else. 

Sherlock struggled to retrieve any memory of her. That was at least until the name “Redbeard” was brought up. He had loved Redbeard his faithful dog and childhood best friend. He couldn’t remember what had happened to him, at least not until Mycroft filled in the gaps. Since that discovery, he, his brother, and John had left to check in on Eurus’ security. Sherlock and John wanted to prove that she had left multiple times once impersonating as a girl that Sherlock met during a case, and once as John’s new therapist. Mycroft was insistent that this was impossible, so they went to settle the matter once and for all. What they were not expecting was for it all the be a trap.

They were soon captured and forced to complete trials that tested personal morality and will power all centered around Sherlock. It seems that Eurus was fascinated by her brother and wanted to better understand him. It didn’t help that she had previously formed an alliance with Moriarty and knew more about Sherlock than he did her. But that was all Mycroft’s fault now wasn’t it? The first challenge forced Sherlock to choose either John or Mycroft to shoot an innocent man in order to save his wife. Both inevitably refused and the man in a last-ditch effort took his own life in front of them. Eurus didn’t hesitate to kill the wife, questioning the three whether or not keeping their hands clean costing two lives was any better than taking one life and leaving one to survive. She then ordered Sherlock to collect the gun, which now only had one bullet, and continue.

The next trial was equally grim. Sherlock was forced to deduce which of three brothers was a murderer provided only the gun and three pictures. To add to the suspense, she presented the three brothers hanging over the ocean tied up with weights. If they dropped they would inescapably be drowned. Sherlock made the correct deduction much to everyone’s relief, but Eurus dropped all three explaining that the life of an innocent weighs no less than the life of the guilty.

The third trial was where it got personal. There was a small wooden coffin. It was nothing special about it. Sherlock quickly deduced that it was built for a woman, one with no close family, one who was sensible, one that- he was interrupted when Mycroft brought over the lid which had a mere two words on it, “Words unsaid”. 

“Whatever does that mean?” John asked.

But deep down Sherlock knew and he feared what was about to happen next.

“It’s Y/n,” he replied.

“Y/n? What does she have to do with this?”

“Why quite a lot Mr. Watson, and very good Sherlock. Now then, this ought to be fun. In a moment, I am going to give her a ring. She’s alone in her apartment which is hooked up with explosions. Now then brother, you will have two minutes to get her to say the magic words. The catch? You can’t say them yourself, you can’t give her any indication that you or she is in danger. Just play your mind games like you used to,” Eurus grinned.

“What are the magic words?” Mycroft asked.

Sherlock’s face fell into a pained expression as he considered the task at hand.

“He has to get her to tell him that she loves him,” John realized.

“Yay! Now that everyone is on the same page, let’s give her a ring.” Eurus cheered, “Oh and for added fun,” she clicked on the tv showing video of you in your flat.

Sherlock studied the video feed, you looked horrible, something had clearly upset you. He could tell that you had recently been crying. As the phone rang he prayed that you would answer it. The clock seemed to loom over him as it continued to click down. He watched as you slowly retrieved yours and glanced down at the name answering it almost immediately.

1:40

“Sherlock?”

“Ah, Y/n, I-” he started.

“I ought to kill you for giving me such a scare. Baker street exploded it’s all over the news and I’ve been trying to get ahold of you ever since. Are you okay? Is John okay? What happened?”

“We’re fine, just a little accident,” Sherlock replied calmly.

“I thought you were dead, the least you could have done was sent me a text” she whimpered.

“Oh come on now, you know I’m more clever than that, besides I’ve been busy, you know how it is” he mused.

1:20

“Y/n, do you remember the phone call we had just before Reichenbach, right as Moriarty had begun his master plan?” he asked feeling rushed.

“Of course I do, I still have nightmares from that call,”

“Well, I need you to tell me what you said that day,”

“There’s no way in hell,” you replied. Sherlock was able to see how much this upset you and clenched his eyes shut feeling the pressure.

“Please Y/n, I really need to hear it,” he begged softly.

0:60

“Sherlock, is everything alright?” you asked concerned at his unprecedented demeanor.

Eurus warned her brother to remember the rules. 

“Everything is fine, I just need to hear you say it,”

“Why? This better not be one of your experiments,”

“It’s not, I promise. I wouldn’t do that, not to you,”

“I don’t get the big deal,” 

“Please Y/n,” 

0:30

“I-I can’t”

“Why not?”

“Because you didn’t say it back,”

0:25

“If you meant it then, if there is any chance that you mean it now, please say it again,” he begged.

“Sherlock,” you pleaded

“Please Y/n, please tell me what you said that day on the phone, our last call together before the fall,” he said with such sincerity and emotion.

0:18

“You called me to tell me that everything had been a lie, that Moriarty was right. You told me that  you only had one choice left. I begged you to stop, to wait until I could get to you, that together the two of us would figure something out. But you said it was too late,” you recalled tears streaming down your face.

“And then…” he prompted.

0:12

“And then I pleaded with you not to do it,”

“Why? What was your reason?”

0:08

You hesitated for a moment, “ because I cared about you,”

“That’s not what you said Y/n, what exact words did you say?” His own eyes were betraying him at this point.

0:03

“I told you that I loved you, that fake or not, I would still love you” you cried, “And you didn’t say it back.”

Just then the phone clicked off as Eurus ended the call. 

Sherlock redirected his attention to Eurus’ screen, “Okay Eurus, I won. I made her say it. What now, what happens next?”

“Funny isn’t it? I don’t recall her actually saying the words ‘I love you’. She said ‘I loved you’ and ‘I would still love you’ and while close, I just don’t think that cuts it for me.” 

“Wait!” Sherlock screamed launching forward as Eurus hit a button and he was forced to watch your apartment explode. All that Mycroft could manage was staring in shock as the tv quickly cut to black. John went to his friend who had sunk to the ground staring vacantly.

“You didn’t tell her before Reichenbach and now you’ll never be able to, tell me Sherlock, are all those complicated little emotions worth it? Because to me it seems that the emotional context is what destroys you. Now pull yourself together as the next challenge is even more enduring.”

She paused for a moment before adding, “take your time,” and shutting off her screen. 

Sherlock rose to his feet and John and Mycroft hesitantly went towards the next door, turning back when they heard him whisper “no” before aggressively attacking the empty coffin taking out his rage and immediate grief. After annihilating it, he sat back against the wall. 

Regretting that he could not properly console his friend, John forced himself over to Sherlock handing him the gun saying, “I know this is beyond difficult and you are being tortured, but you have to keep it together, we have to keep moving”

“This isn’t torture, it’s vivisection, we are experience science from the perspective of lab rats,”

“Right now, we are soldiers who just need to survive, this is not the time nor place for mourning,” John said firmly.

“Alright,” Sherlock agreed and John helped him up.

The three men continued to the next room where Sherlock was tasked with choosing whether to kill John or Mycroft. He made his decision, Eurus’ game was over, and he pointed the gun under his own chin taking a calculated risk.

When he awoke, he was alone in a small cell plastered with pictures from his childhood. He quickly called out for John and Mycroft. John answered explaining that he was in a well, but otherwise seemingly fine. There was no response from Mycroft.

Sherlock quickly figured out that he was not actually in a cell but rather in a collapsable structure outside his childhood home. Eurus tasked him with discovering the location of Redbeard and upped the stakes as she started filling the well that John was chained to the bottom of. Sherlock racked his brain trying to solve the same problem who’s solution had evaded him as a child. That was at least until in an escape attempt, John solved an important piece of the puzzle.

Redbeard was never a dog.

Sherlock suddenly remembered his childhood best friend Victor Trevor who his brain had so cleverly disguised to help preserve his psyche. With this new information, Sherlock was able to figure out the Eurus’ song corresponded to the gravestones with the weird dates. He quickly deciphered the message and went to free John who was running out of time.

Outside of the well, he discovered his sister, “I’m so sorry Eurus,” he spoke sincerely.

“You needed me and I abandoned you, I could have saved you,” he added.

“I just wanted my brother,” she replied childishly.

“I’m here now, and we can fix this, just free John, don’t make the same mistake you made with Victor,” he pleaded.

“I don’t want to quit playing the game, I don’t want you to leave me again,”

“I’m not going to leave, I’m going to save you,”

Not knowing how to respond she simply stepped back and allowed Sherlock to save his friend. He dove into action turning the water off and then retrieving a key carefully tossing down to John so that he could free his ankles. He searched for a moment to find what Eurus had used to get John down there to begin with and found some rope that he leveraged against a tree and tossed down to his friend. 

It was as John was climbing over the side that the police cars and helicopters arrived. Mycroft’s people were there to collect Eurus, who went with them peacefully. Sherlock and John were both checked over by the EMT’s and given shock blankets. They were informed that Mycroft was safe and simply left back in Sherrinford. Once he regained consciousness, he his people and sent them in helicopters to take care of Eurus. But then? Who called the police?

“William Sherlock Holmes” you yelled slamming the door to Greg’s station car.

John and Sherlock had never turned around so fast in their lives. How were you here? Hadn’t they both watched your apartment go up in smoke? Or, was that merely another one of Eurus’ tricks?

“You’d better have a good explanation for-”

“I love you too,” he interrupted shocking both you and John.

“What?” you asked in disbelief.

“I said I love you too, I wanted to say it during that call two years ago, and I wanted to say it earlier today. I promise I will explain everything, and I understand if you no longer fill the same way, I’m sorry for not saying it before,” he confessed. 

You stared at him in awe, taking a step closer still staring at him. You closed the remaining gap between the two of you and smoothly connected your lips with his allowing them to communicate for you. After an instant of shock, Sherlock reciprocated allowing the blanket to fall off of his shoulders as he pulled you in closer. When he pulled away, both of you were slightly dazed and smiling. 

“You have a lot of explaining to do,” you whispered.

“That I do,” he answered.

From there, Greg dropped John and Sherlock off at John’s place where he happily greeted Molly and wasted no time collecting Rosie. The next day the three of you would meet up at 221B Baker Street and begin cleaning and repairing that flat as Sherlock did as promised and explained everything. After two weeks the renovations were complete and John and Rosie moved back in with Sherlock who had decided to utilize space in 221C for experiments to keep Rosie away from them both for her safety and his sanity.

This is my first Sherlock Holmes imagine, I hope you enjoy it. It takes place after the season four finale.

Sherlock Holmes, the first consultant detective and the last man anyone expected to be getting married. To be fair, he was not the same man he used to be. He had been changed by the people who loved him. The helped him evolve from a great man into a good one. Every person he met, every case he took, it all prepared him to allow love into his life. To allow you into his life. It was not easy, it was more than a simple deduction that he was used to. But after meeting you he knew that his greatest case ever would be figuring out how to be a man you could love. 

The beginning was simple, you were hired to watch Rosie on a regular basis. This led to a friendship with John and frequent interactions with Sherlock. Instead of being put off by his composure and intelligence you were in awe of it. Over time Sherlock would go out of his way to make sure the two of you would cross paths. Seeing you with Rosie, watching your face light up as he spoke, and hearing your laugh made him feel something that he didn’t understand. 

On a particular dull afternoon, Sherlock had made the mistake of asking about you. It didn’t take John long at all to figure out what was happening.

“You have a thing for my nanny,” he laughed.

“I certainly do not. High Functioning Sociopath remember. I don’t do love.” Sherlock replied.

“Keep telling yourself that Sherlock” John replied.

“I’m serious!”

“I’m sure you think that you are,” 

“John!”

“You should ask her out,”

“You are acting like a twelve-year-old” Sherlock shot back. It wasn’t like he hadn’t entertained the idea, but why would someone like you ever want to go out with a man like him. 

It would take three weeks for John to convince Sherlock to ask you out. He had to get coaching from both John and Mrs. Hudson and even then the entire concept seemed so foreign to him. That night he had met you at John’s house while you were babysitting Rosie. The two of you talked about his latest case. You knew that something was off and asked him about it. Eventually, with much rambling, he made it through his request. He stood silently over-analyzing every second before you had agreed. 

From there, things were interesting, to say the least. Sherlock had no idea how to be a boyfriend and it was very obvious. Luckily, you were patient and low maintenance. You would help him with cases when John was otherwise occupied. He would also stop in when you were watching Rosie. While your relationship was far from traditional, it worked. He may not have always picked up on your emotional needs, but he was there for you in ways that only he could be. His blunt and harsh words dimmed as he learned what it meant to love someone in a romantic way. He loved you in his own way, but it was precisely what you needed and you couldn’t imagine your life with anyone else.

The next step in your relationship was moving into 221 B Baker St. with Sherlock. He explained that it was convenient and cost-effective, especially since the two of you already spent so much time there. You laughed at his applied logic and agreed, excited to take the next step.

There was never a dull moment living with him between his experiments, cases, and friends. The longer you were with him, the more you realized he was like a grown puppy in constant need of attention and excitement. Whether it was a good day or a bad day, you were both always there for each other.

Mrs. Hudson was the first one to ask Sherlock if he was ever going to purpose to you. She had shipped the two of you since the first time she had seen you interact. She joked that Sherlock would not meet anyone else who adored his brain and was willing to put up with it so he’d better marry you or John and get it over with. He initially brushed off this comment, but it got him thinking. The two of you had never really talked about marriage or kids, that just wasn’t Sherlock and you understood that. Marriage was just a social construct, he found it pointless, at least he used to. Before John and Mary’s wedding.

He asked John his opinion on the matter which caught him completely off guard. He couldn’t believe that his best friend was actually considering getting married. He was so happy and helped him plan everything out.

The proposal, like the rest of your relationship, was nontraditional. You, John, and Sherlock were on a case together and it proved to be more unpredictable than Sherlock had anticipated. After momentarily escaping imminent danger, the three of you were trying to figure out your next move and he just let it slip.

“Y/f/n Y/l/n, if we make it out of this alive would you want to marry me?” he asked nonchalantly.

Before you could answer John spoke up, “Now?! We were just being shot at and you think now is the time to propose?”

“I’m sorry, is it not a good time? Would you rather me wait until after we get shot?”  he directed to his friend. 

“Sherlock-” John started.

“Yes,” you answered staring adoringly at the scene in front of you. This was your family and your life and you wouldn’t trade it for the world. 

“Yes, what?” John asked.

“Sherlock asked me a question, that is my answer. Yes.” you clarified.

“Really?” Sherlock asked.

“Yes, now can we figure out how to get out of here alive?” you added.

“Oh right, I have a plan,” Sherlock explained. 

“Of course you do,” John sighed not believing what he just witnessed.

That night ended with everyone making it out unscathed, the criminals in custody, and celebration of the engagement. When you made it back to 221 B Baker street Sherlock revealed the ring he had made for you. The two of you spent the next couple of months planning your wedding in-between cases, Sherlock was unexpectantly invested and excited. 

It was a relatively small gathering. You didn’t have much family and weren’t in contact with them. At the end of the day, it was John and Mycroft who was Sherlock’s co-best men, Rosie who was the cutest flower girl ever, Mrs. Hudson, the rest of the Holmes family, Molly, Detective Lestrade, and a few other close friends. Because you didn’t really have anyone else, you asked John to walk you down the aisle which he was honored to do. He later made a joke that you and Sherlock might as well had asked him to officiate the ceremony too.

You had both decided to write your own vows which were interesting. Sherlock went first pulling out his notes from his pocket and then deciding not to use them and speak freely instead. 

“I used to not believe in love. If you told me that I would be getting married I would have laughed at the ridiculous notion. I was logical and avoided emotions that would interfere with that. I never wanted the distraction that was love, furthermore, I didn’t believe I was capable of loving someone in a romantic way. But then I met you. I’m not going to lie and say that it was love at first sight or that I knew that we would end up together because it was not that simple. But over time I came to realize that I wanted to experience love and you. No matter how illogical, you had made an impact on my life and I wanted to explore that. Y/f/n Y/l/n you make me happy and complete in ways I can’t even comprehend. You make me want to be a better man, to be more like the man you believe that I am. So today in front of the people we love most, I vow to spend the rest of my with you, no matter where it takes us. The game is on.” he smiled.

“Oh my, how am I supposed to follow that?” you joked earning laughs from the others in attendance. 

“Okay, here it goes. Sherlock Holmes, you are one of the most brilliant and astonishing people I have ever met in my life. My life changed the moment I met you. You brought adventure, uncertainty, and excitement into my life. I know that there will never be a dull moment with the two of us. By marrying you, I realize that I am marrying science experiments in the kitchen, solving cases, and ending any chance that I had at a normal life which is perfect. I acknowledge that you are not perfect nor am I, but we are perfect for each other and that is what matters. You are everything that I never knew I needed and I love the person I am when I am with you. So today, I vow to spend the rest of my life reminding you who you are. I vow to be there for you at 2 am when the world doesn’t make sense and at 2 pm when it does. I vow to help you annoy Mycroft and to look after John and Rosie. I vow to spend the rest of my life with you, no matter where it takes us. The game is on.” you smiled reciting his last two lines.

The two of you exchanged rings and were directed to kiss which earned cheers from your friends and family. You quickly signed the papers and took the photos before adjourning to the reception that John had planned. It was nice and intimate. Your and Sherlock’s first dance was something that you would never forget. You had never realized that Sherlock could dance like that. The rest of the night was what you’d expect for a reception. You made it to the point of speeches and everyone took their turn. Mycroft’s was short and simple, he explained how he was proud of his brother for becoming the man he was and wished you luck as Sherlock was your problem now. The mood changed as it became John’s turn. His speech was so sincere and touching that it brought people to tears. When he completed, both you and Sherlock nearly tackled him in a hug.

This is the third and final part to this series, thanks for joining me on the ride! Part 1: Here  Part 2: Here

The phone rung a couple of times before Sherlock answered. “Awh John, you’re missing the fun.”

“She’s okay, just had a bad reaction to the antigens in the blood they gave her during surgery.”

“Did they give her the wrong blood?”

“They claim they didn’t, but that is the only thing that makes sense.”

“Oh, that’s brilliant! The bullets weren’t made of ice, they were made of blood. That explains everything.”

“I’m not sure I follow,”

“Think about it the bullet disappeared. She had a bad reaction to antigens. Ice wasn’t dense enough, but the blood would be perfect. Someone used human blood to create a projectile that when froze with liquid nitrogen and shot by pressurized air would resemble a bullet. It wouldn’t leave an exit wound and would dissolve. It also explains why she said the wound site was cold.” Sherlock explained.

“She’s awake now, you should come and see her. She’s asked about you,” John replied.

“I’m glad she is okay, I will come to visit when I have solved the case” Sherlock replied.

“Sherlock, she is still in critical condition, you do understand that right?”

“The auction is tomorrow, we are running out of time,” Sherlock answered before hanging up.

John wanted to call him back, but he knew that it was no use. He instead went into your room and sent Molly home for the night. When you woke up he explained what had happened and Sherlock’s blood bullet theory.

“Have you found the paintings yet?” you asked.

“What do you mean?”

“The real paintings are still in the Museum somewhere. There is too much traffic, extra security, and outside security cameras for them to have been removed. None of the other security cameras were tampered with and no other guards were affected. It had to be an inside job because someone walked in and out of that well-lit room without drawing suspicion and left the same way. They had to be in there well before they actually shot the security guard. Between that and the looping footage, I would assume that the guard was in on the heist and then was double-crossed. Regardless, there is no possible way that the art was removed it is somewhere in that room. I called the art restorator that you met, he said that he would meet with me to check over the paintings. He wanted me to come in that night, but I told him it would have to wait. Oh my god, it was him!” you realized.

“How so?” John asked.

“He knew that I was on to him and he knew you and Sherlock wouldn’t be home. He had access to the facility and no one would question where he was going. He has worked at the gallery for a while and would have had plenty of time to plan everything out.” you explained.

John was laughing and pulling out his phone.

“What?” you asked.

“You are insane, that is what. I need to get normal friends,” he answered. 

“Is everything okay?” Sherlock answered.

“Yes, but you need to go to the museum, I’ll meet you there.”

 “Why?”

“Because Y/n solved the case and we need to go pick up the paintings and culprit. I’ll explain when we get there. Call Mycroft.” he said and hung up.

“Okay now, you are going to lay here and rest. No exceptions. Sherlock and I will come by when it’s over and we will see what we have to do to get you out of here. Is there anyone you’d like me to call?” he asked.

“Nope, I think I’ll take a nap. Be careful,” you answered.

Sherlock and John went to the museum. It didn’t take them long to discover where the real paintings were being hidden. They then went to Dr. Argonza’s office, to no one’s surprise he wasn’t there. They did find a cryogenic dewar which could have easily been used to store the blood bullets. There was an airbrush and pipe that Sherlock was sure could provide enough velocity to cause the injuries. The entire rig would easily fit under a coat and be hidden. Sherlock filled his brother in and together they came up with a plan to switch the duplicates back with the originals and wait for Dr. Argonza at the auction where they would pick him up.

Convinced that not even Mycroft’s men could screw this up, John and Sherlock prepared to leave. John had them stop by the flat to pick you up some spare clothes for your return trip. He was surprised to see that Sherlock had cleaned up the blood and everything from his experiments earlier that day. He was glad that this was almost over and that things would soon be back to normal. 

When they arrived at the hospital they were told visitation hours were over and made some type of excuse using their “badges” to get passed the nurse. John led the way to your room and Sherlock followed. They were surprised to hear talking from your room. That surprised turned to concern when they realized that your door was locked.

Meanwhile:

You were tired and understandably so. But how were you supposed to get any sleep when nurses were constantly coming in and poking and prodding you. This nurse was different, you hadn’t seen him yet. He came over and prepared to inject another medication into your IV. 

“I had my last round of medication an hour ago,” you spoke confused.

“This is a post-op Antibiotic, Doctors’ orders,” he said nonchalantly.

“Which one?” you asked painfully forcing yourself to sit up to get a better look. 

“Carbenicillin? That can’t be right. I have a severe reaction to Beta Lactums.” you explained.

“Hmm, it doesn’t say that in your chart,” he replied before injecting it in.

You immediately tore out your IV and tried to hit the Nurse call button, shouting for help. 

“Shut up! Shut up!” he shouted coming over and placing his hand over your nose and mouth forcefully. You tried to fight against him but your body was too weak and the fear was taking over.

“If you would have just stayed out of it, none of this would have happened. I didn’t want to kill you, but you’re too much of a liability now,” he explained.

You were beyond scared now tears running down your cheeks. You fought against it with everything you had but it was too much. The burning in your chest took over and the black circles grew. 

That is when Sherlock and John burst through the door. Sherlock ripped Dr. Argonza off of you and threw him on the ground. You gasped and struggled to breathe. John had him at gunpoint until security was able to collect him. Even then, he waited with him until Mycroft showed up with his men to take him away. Back in your room, the nurses had kicked Sherlock out so they could thoroughly check you over. You were understandably a mess and demanded AMA forms. You gave them no choice and fought through the pain to remove all of the monitors that were hooked up to you. You sat up sheepishly and started putting on the clothes that John had brought. The nurses tried to reason with you, but you weren’t having it. That is when one of them decided to let Sherlock in to see if he could talk any sense into you.

“What is it that you think you are doing?” he asked concerned.

“I’m leaving. Are you going to help me?” you replied clutching your head.

“Y/n, you can’t leave. You need to stay here and let them take care of you, you’re in no condition to go home” he tried and then he saw something that shook him; you started crying. 

“I can’t stay here, please don’t make me stay here” you cried.

He felt like he was entirely unequipped to handle this situation and wished that John was there.

“It’s okay Y/n, everything is going to be okay. Just lay back down.” he tried.

“I want to go home Sherlock, I’d rather die there than stay here,” you sobbed. 

He went over to your side and did something that was very rare for Sherlock, he gave you a hug. 

“I was so scared” you revealed.

“I know, I’m sorry. It’s over now,” he soothed. 

“I can’t stay here, Sherlock,” you added.

“I know, we’ll figure it out. Just relax,” he whispered.

“I’m sorry,”

“You have nothing to be sorry for Y/n, just lay back down until John returns,” Sherlock instructed taking a seat next to you. It wasn’t long before you fell back asleep. And shortly after that both John and Mycroft walked in.

“What is all this?” John asked referring to you sleeping in your clothes and not being hooked up to the machines.  

“She doesn’t want to stay here. She signed AMA’s and tried to leave.” Sherlock informed.

“Well she doesn’t get a choice, she needs to stay and be looked after,” John replied. 

“You know, I have never seen her cry before today.” Sherlock whispered, “She literally said that she rather die at our flat than to stay here.”

“We can’t take care of her in this condition,” John reminded.

“Mycroft, do you think that I can cash in a favor?” Sherlock asked acknowledging his brothers’ presence for the first time.

“You are running low on those, what do you want this time?” Mycroft returned.

“The VIP suite here until Y/n can safely check out,” Sherlock replied still not taking his eyes off of your sleeping form.

“I’ll see what I can do,” he said as he exited the room.

“We almost lost her three times today John,” Sherlock realized.

“She’ll be okay though, and that’s what counts,” John reminded.

Boom! What’s up guys? I hoped that you enjoyed part one of Mystery Bullet. If you haven’t read it yet, you can find it here: Part 1 . Sit back, relax, and enjoy!

The ambulance arrived and quickly took you away. John and Sherlock followed closely behind. When they arrived they sat in the waiting room in silence. Eventually, Sherlock spoke up. “First things first, we need to determine if this was connected to the case,” he spoke.

“Sherlock, our friend is on the other side of that wall fighting for her life and you want to talk about the case?” John asked incredulously. 

“We can’t help her in there, but we can catch whoever did this,” he explained

“Okay, go on,” John agreed.

“To start it either was or was not related. Y/n may or may not have been the intended target seeing as she was shot at our residence. The lights were off when I arrived, but she was in the living area so that was most likely done by her shooter. Mrs. Hudson was downstairs the entire time and didn’t hear a gunshot, so there must have been a silencer used. Judging by the amount of blood, she had been in that condition for under 20 minutes when I arrived. Based on her positioning she faced her attacker, however, she did not let him into the apartment he let himself in.” Sherlock deduced. 

“Okay, Sherlock I-” John started but the doctor came and interrupted him.

“Are you here for Miss Y/l/n?”

“Yes, how is she?” John asked.

“She is stable now, but still in critical condition. Her heart stopped while she was on the table and we won’t know the full extent of her injuries until she wakes up. It was a miracle that you weren’t five minutes later,” he informed.

“Can I see the bullet?” Sherlock asked.

“We didn’t recover a bullet. Nothing showed up in the preliminary x-rays and there was no exit wound,” he explained.

“Can we see her?” John questioned.

“She is being brought up to her own room now, I’ll have one of the nurses take you in as soon as she’s settled. Try not to excite her as her body can’t handle it right now,” he explained.

“Thank you, doctor,” John replied as he and Sherlock took their seats. 

“Okay, so now we know that this is connected to our case,” Sherlock informed.

“That’s great Sherlock,” John dismissed more concerned about his friend. 

“That means when we solve our case, we will know who is responsible for shooting Y/n. I’m going back to the flat.” 

“What? Don’t you want to be here when she wakes up?” John asked.

“She’ll understand, see you in a bit,” 

Before John could protest Sherlock was already up and on his way out. It was about ten minutes later when John was allowed into your room to see you and another twenty before you would wake up. 

“Y/n? I’m right here.”

“What? Where?”

“Just relax, you are in the hospital. You were shot.”

“Sherlock?”

“He’s fine, just being Sherlock. Do you remember what happened before you were shot?”

“I was cold.” you struggled.

“That’s normal, you lost a lot of blood.”

“No, not from blood loss, it was cold at the entry site” you explain.

“Okay, did you see who shot you?” he asked.

“No, it was dark,” you said weakly fiddling with your IV.

“What are you doing?”

“I have to get out of here. I have to help with the case,” you replied starting to lose focus. 

“The only thing you need to do right now is rest and recuperate,” John explained. 

“No, I have to go to the gallery. I figured it out,” you said before passing out from the drugs. 

“Y/n? What did you figure out?” he questioned, but it was no use.

John went back into the lobby and phoned Sherlock who answered after the first ring.

“Is everything okay?” he asked,

 “I just spoke to Y/n. She doesn’t remember much but said that the entry wound of the shot was cold. She also said that she figured it out. But passed out before she could explain. Maybe she wrote something down or left it on her laptop?” John recalled.

 “I’ll check, are you going to join me or stay there?” Sherlock asked.

“I don’t want to leave her alone Sherlock.”

“She won’t be alone, Molly is on her way.”

“You called Molly?”

“Well, Y/n doesn’t to my knowledge have any family so Molly seemed like a reasonable substitute for you. She should be there at any moment.”

John went back into your room and waited with you until Molly arrived and assured him she’d look after you. He then went back to the flat where Sherlock was waiting. He informed John that Detective Lastrande and the crew had stopped by to analyze the scene. John glanced down to where your blood was on the floor. He was so thankful that they had come back when they did and that you were okay. The two of them proceeded to go through everything they knew and what they could muster up from your computer. 

Meanwhile, you had woken up again this time to find Molly in your room. 

“Hey Y/n, how are you feeling?” she asked standing up and moving closer to you.

“Like I got shot yesterday,” you joked, “Where are Sherlock and John?” 

“They are out solving the case,” she answered.

“Molly I need your phone, I need to talk to Sherlock.” you said trying to stay focused.

“We aren’t really supposed to use phones in here,” she hesitated.

“Molly, it’s very important that I speak to Sherlock, please” you tried. 

She gave in and handed you her cellphone. You dialed Sherlock who quickly answered. 

“Molly? Is everything okay? How’s Y/n?” Sherlock questioned.

“I’m fine but listen to me. It’s about the art gallery. They’re doing an auction. I think they are trying to pass off counterfeits. Inside job. I called-” you started but were caught by a wave of pain which caused you to drop the phone.

“Y/n? Are you alright?” Sherlock asked

“Y/n? What’s wrong?” Molly asked. 

“I feel-” you started.

“You feel what?” Molly questioned.

 “I feel wonderful,” you replied before everything faded to black again. 

“Molly, what’s happening?” Sherlock demanded as he was forced to listen to the sporadic beeping turn into a flatline.

“Nurse! We need a nurse in here!” Molly yelled.

Sherlock hung up the phone. He needed to think. He needed everything to stop so that he could think. There was going to be an auction of the art gallery. The break-in was to switch out counterfeits for the originals. That made sense. But you said it was an inside job. Did you know that or were you just assuming? How would you know? If you were specifically being targeted based on what you had found, how would the culprit have known? Why was there no bullet? There was too much going on in his head. He couldn’t focus.

He was brought out of his thoughts by John who had returned with Tea. “Sherlock? Are you okay?” 

“I talked to Y/n. She thinks that the robbery was actually someone switching the paintings out with counterfeits before the art auction tomorrow. She said it was an inside job before she flatlined.” he recalled.

John nearly dropped his tea, “What do you mean before she flatlined?”

“She was explaining about the case but was cut short and then she flatlined, but it’s okay Molly called a nurse.” He explained.

“Get up” John ordered retrieving his coat.

“Why?”

“We are going to the hospital.” 

“But I need to be here to solve the case.”

“The bloody case can wait Sherlock, Y/n could be dying. Do you understand that?”

Sherlock didn’t argue and they made their way back to the hospital. On the way in, Sherlock nearly slipped on some ice. And that is when it clicked, he turned around and got back in the taxi.

“Where do you think you’re going now?” John asked.

“Ice bullets,” Sherlock replied. 

John dismissed this and went in to sit with Molly as they waited. Meanwhile, Sherlock was performing experiments to figure out ice bullets. He ran into a number of problems using traditional gun powder and guns. For example, the gun powder melted the bullet before it was fired. The ice wasn’t as dense as lead which meant it had to move at least 3x as fast to penetrate the skin. So if he defined an ice bullet as frozen water and a gun as the traditional idea of a gun, it was impossible. But if it were a normal gun, someone would have heard a gunshot. He then thought about what could shoot the ice bullet at the speed needed to cause the injuries both you and the security guard sustained. So he rigged up something using pressurized air. It worked, but the ice shattered upon contact. The concept was right, but the medium wasn’t.

Meanwhile, the doctor had come out to update Molly and John. 

“She is stable again and back in her room. She suffered from a negative reaction to the antigens in the blood we gave her during surgery,” he explained

“Did you give her the wrong blood?” Molly asked confused as to how this could happen.

“No, we cross-matched it correctly during surgery”

“Well is she going to be okay?” John asked

“We’re running some more tests now.” 

“Can we see her?” John asked again.

“Yes, but one at a time.” 

“You go on in Molly, I’m going to call Sherlock,” John said

This is a three-part Sherlock Series. It is loosely based on an episode of Bones and The Lying Detective.

You, Sherlock Holmes, and John Watson were nothing short of the dream team. Sherlock with his intelligence and applied logic, John with his medical and military background, and you with your psychological profiling and background in forensics. The first time you met Sherlock he deducted you as he likes to do, he was surprised when you quickly returned the favor doing a complex and accurate psychoanalsis on him. The rest, as they say, was history, the three of you quickly became a small family that solved cases together. Everything was going great until the Case Of The Mystery Bullet.

Mycroft had shown up to the flat to reveal that Sherlock was needed once again. 

“There was a break-in last night at The National Art Gallery, and we need you to help solve it brother mine,” Mycroft informed.

“Theft? Boring. Call me back when there’s been a murder” Sherlock replied.

“What was stolen?” John asked curiously.

“That’s the thing, as far as we can tell nothing has been stolen,” Mycroft explained.

“So how do you know that there was a break-in?” you asked.

“I would tell you if I could go more than a sentence without being interrupted.” he glared.

“There was no footage, no point of entry or exit, no fingerprints, nothing notably stolen, but there was a dead security guard with a bullet entry wound, no exit wound, and no bullet.” 

“Interesting enough, we’ll take it,” Sherlock decided.

So the three of you grabbed your things and were off. First to the scene of the crime. You took photos of the artwork and the general scene. Sherlock decided that it would be best to go to the morgue to check over the body. He was sure that the bullet was a small caliber and just lodged behind some bone. There had to be a reasonable explanation for all of this. 

After speaking with Molly and checking it out for yourselves you determined that there indeed was no bullet. This perplexed Sherlock, but he’d figure it out in time. At this point, the three of you split up. Sherlock and John had gone to speak with the Victim’s family and the gallery workers and you were headed back to the loft to look into the specifics of the break-in.

After a couple of hours, you had come to realize that the gallery was supposed to be hosting an auction in a few days. It was a prestigious black-tie event and was expected to rank in millions of dollars. This led you to believe that the murder was either part of a trial run or a message to try to delay the auction. You looked further into it and found that the auction was still scheduled to go on. So why break into an art gallery and not steal something? What if they planted something. A bomb? No that would be to easily detected. A camera? They might as well just hack into the security system. So why break-in? Unless they did steal something and replaced it. What if they took one of the pieces that were about to be auctioned off and replaced it with a replica? It would have to be someone who knew a lot about the pieces. Most likely some form of an inside job with how they managed to go undetected. You made a few phone calls to local experts and restorators and asked them to accompany you to analyze the paintings in the morning for inaccuracies. You would have called or text John and Sherlock with your discoveries, but they were expected back within the hour. Satisfied and tired you decided to shift your focus to the peculiar disappearing bullet. It was minutes later when you heard the door being opened.

“Took you guys long enough, I think I figured it out,” you said turning to face the door. The lights went off and you couldn’t see who was there, however you knew that it was neither John nor Sherlock. Before you could react you heard a whistle-like noise and felt a cold pain. You tried to reach for your phone but wound up falling onto your back everything going blurry. You tried to focus on staying awake. You knew that you needed to put pressure on your wound, but you couldn’t move. Everything was telling you to give in to the pain, but you knew that passing out significantly affected your chances for survival.

-Sometime Later-

“I don’t know what the point of you having a phone is if you refuse to answer it,” Sherlock said as he walked into the door. He found it strange that the lights were off, maybe you had left? He flipped on the lights and discovered you.

“Y/n? Y/n. Can you hear me?” he asked dropping everything and rushing to your side. He immediately checked your pulse. 

“John!” he yelled knowing that his friend was downstairs chatting with Mrs. Hudson. “John!” 

His mind was racing, what should he do. Should he call the ambulance? Should he apply pressure to the wound? 

“John” he yelled again with desperation before returning his focus to you. He quickly pulled off his scarf and applied pressure to your wound. “Y/n. Just stay with me alright,” he spoke. 

Just then John came in, “Bloody hell Sherlock, what do you want?” he asked before he realized what was going on. He rushed over to you. “Did you call the ambulance?” he asked, “Sherlock, did you call the ambulance?” John demanded. 

“No, I hadn’t-” Sherlock answered face pailing.

“Do it now,” John ordered as he replaced Sherlock’s position both applying pressure and keeping track of your pulse. Becoming slightly aware of your surroundings, you opened your eyes. “That’s right Y/n, keep your eyes open. Stay with us.” John urged. Sherlock then came into view.

“The ambulance is on its way. Everything is going to be fine,” he added.

“John? What can I do?” he whispered. 

“Just keep talking to her,” John answered repositioning himself to apply more pressure. But for the first time in his life, Sherlock Holmes was at a complete loss for words. John noticed this but didn’t have time to say anything as he noticed your eyes closing again. 

A/N: This is the second part of Too Late. 

Peter went back to the tower and received the needed medical attention. His aunt would show up and be so relieved that he was in one piece. She would hold him as he cried and tell him that everything would be okay while silently cursing the world for being so cruel to the young boy who deserved a break. After a while, she would have to leave with Happy to start sorting everything out. Other Avengers would come in and offer Peter their condolences, promising that they would be there for him if he needed anything. Tony practically moved into Peter’s room, not wanting to leave him alone. The worst part came when Y/n’s mother showed up. He expected her to scream at him for killing her daughter. But instead, she just told him how relieved she was that he was okay. She cried, he cried, she explained to him that the funeral would be held a week later and asked that he speak if he was up for it. She reminded him of how much you loved him and told him that he could come by any time. 

Two days later he went back to his Aunt’s apartment. Everywhere he looked he saw you, memories flashing. He remembered the countless movie marathons (and maybe make-out sessions) on the couch. He remembered disasters in the kitchen and the flour fight you had when he discovered you trying to bake his birthday cake last year. He remembered chasing you through the halls, both of you laughing, him kissing you when he caught you in his arms. He slowly made it up to his room trying to keep it together. But, that was honestly pointless. As he opened the door, he saw the multiple shirts he had tried on before your date sprawled across his bed. He pushed them on to the ground and laid down just wanting everything to stop for a minute. But his mind refused him such pleasantries.

Instead, he thought about the nights you had spent studying together. The time that you had discovered he was Spider-Man. He replayed multiple conversations the two of you had had. He remembered the day he asked you out, your first date, the times he went to your house after a particularly bad night whether it was to be patched up or just to talk. His mind continued on like that until he eventually drifted off to sleep.

The next morning Aunt May came in and brought Peter breakfast which he hardly touched. She sighed as she was at a loss for what to do. He stayed in his room all day, only getting up to use the restroom. He just wanted to be left alone and she tried to respect that, no matter how hard it was to watch him push her away again.

After two more days of refusing visitors and ignoring the outside world, Peter’s aunt informed him that your mother had called and asked him to stop by. He honestly didn’t want to, but he figured he owed her that much. So he forced himself to shower and get dressed. He then proceeded to walk the too familiar path to your apartment, which again was accompanied by various memories that caused his chest to hurt. He didn’t know how he was supposed to do this. He eventually made it outside your door, thinking about the first time he kissed you, right there in that hallway. He hesitated, and finally knocked softly.

Your mom answered and Peter could see how upset she was, not that anyone could blame her. She invited him to come inside and take a seat on the couch. He still didn’t know exactly why he was here.

“I went today to get her stuff- from the car. This- I think it belongs to you,” she said handing him the small ring box with the promise ring he planned on giving you that night. As he took it, his eyes closed as he tried not to cry again, not in front of your mom. She too was on the verge of tears as he pulled something else out of the bag. “Th-this was in the trunk, it was her anniversary gift for you, she’d been working on it for weeks,” she said taking a deep breath and handing it to him. It was very neatly packaged in blue wrapping paper with a red ribbon. He turned it over in his hands.

Noticing his hesitation, your mother reassured him that he didn’t have to open it now. He just stared at it. 

“Can I get you anything, Peter? Maybe something to drink? Or to eat? People keep dropping off casseroles,”

“I’m good, thanks,” he replied clearing his thoughts.

“You can go up to her room if you want, I like to go in there. It makes me feel closer to her,” she added.

“Yeah, I think I might do that.”

He absentmindedly walked up to your room. It looked exactly the same as it had when he had last seen it. He looked over your photo wall, glancing through the pictures mostly of the two of you. You were smiling and/or laughing in 99% of them. Seeing them brought a smile to his face. He walked around the rest of your room thinking about the time the two of you had spent together there. He took in your familiar scent and felt if only for a moment at peace. 

After a while, he made his way back downstairs. He thanked your mom and told her to reach out if she needed anything. She asked him if he planned on saying anything at your funeral on Saturday and he told her that he would. Though to be honest he had forgotten that that was even a thing. Not the funeral, just the speaking part. He would have to start thinking about it.

When he returned to his apartment, he wasn’t entirely surprised to find one of Tony’s cars was parked around the corner.

“Hey kiddo, how are you doing?” Tony asked as Peter entered.

“As well as can be expected,” he replied setting down the boxes from your house before sitting across from Tony.

“I wanted to check-in, and bring you this,” he said handing him a small shoebox,”

Peter was confused, to say the least. “Mr. Stark you didn’t have to get me anything,”

“I didn’t, it’s from Y/n. She gave it to me a few months ago, made me promise to hold on to it just in case something ever happened,” he explained waiting to see how Peter was going to react.

“She’s unbelievable,” Peter chuckled, the stopped was he thought. 

“Have you eaten anything today?” Tony asked most likely at Aunt May’s request.

“Not really, but I’m fine,” 

“Are you sure, I can have Happy can go pick something up and bring it by, he’s been worried about you,”

“I’m good, thanks though”

“Peter I’m sorry, I can’t imagine how hard all of this is for you, especially right now. You know that I and everyone else are here for you. If there is anything that any of us can do, all you have to do is say the word and we’re here.”

“I know Mr. Stark, thank you,”

“Okay kid, I’m going to give you some space so you can open that -when you’re ready. Make sure you eat something, if not for you, do it for your aunt who’s worried about you. Let me know if you need anything. Otherwise, I’ll see you Saturday.”

“See you Saturday,” Peter mumbled before taking the three boxes upstairs to his room. 

He sat and stared at the anniversary gift and the apparent contingency plan. He debated which one to open first or whether he wanted to open either of them. Okay, that was stupid, obviously, he was going to open them. It was just a matter of when and in which order. After some thought, he made up his mind and picked up the blue box unwrapping it carefully. Inside, was a scrapbook. It had pictures from kindergarten to the present, but that wasn’t all that it had. It also contained some of your artwork and small memorabilia. For example, there were tickets from various movies, the receipt from your first date, the ribbon from the science fair the two of you won, and other things that Peter had absolutely no idea that you kept. His favorite part though was your handwritten additions. Small notes, song lyrics, quotes, and memories that you used to embellish the pages. You had narrated the entire story and it was beautiful. He spent hours going through it carefully, not wanting to miss anything.

When he finished, he put it back in the box and set it aside. He debated whether he wanted to also open the shoebox tonight as he had just been on an emotional roller-coaster. He hesitantly pulled it closer to him and pulled off the lid. There was a note on top which he read first.

Dear Peter, 

I hope that this note never has to be read. However, it needs to exist. So, here we go I guess. In this box, you will find two things, first a Funko Pop! and secondly a flash drive with a video that I recorded for you. 

The Funko Pop! is Kylo Ren. And you may be asking yourself why out of every character in existence, I would choose him. So here’s my reasoning: 1. You love Star Wars 2. I’m guessing that the world seems a little darker than normal right now, so I figured that he could serve as a reminder that no matter how far into the “dark side” you go that there is always redemption and light.

I love you Peter Benjamin Parker.

Forever and Always,

Y/f/n Y/l/n 

Peter took out the Funko Pop! And set it on his desk as he retrieved his laptop and queued up the video. He tried to mentally prepare himself for it, but it was no use.

Hi Peter,

So if you are seeing this something happened to me. I don’t know whether it was Spider-Man related or not. I guess it really doesn’t matter. I just wanted to tell you not to blame yourself. And believe me, I know you well enough to know that you will try to. Even if I live to be 102 and die peacefully in my sleep of natural causes you’d still be looking for a way to blame yourself. That’s kinda your thing, putting the weight of the world on your shoulders. Anyways, no matter what happened, it wasn’t your fault. I knew exactly what I was getting into when I agreed to be your friend, partner in crime, and your girlfriend.

You are so good Peter. You are truly a breath of fresh air. While others actively ignore the pain and suffering in the world, you go out of your way to make a difference. You protect those who can’t protect themselves and you never expect anything in return. Your life has presented you with so many challenges and so many reasons to turn cold, but instead, they made you kind.

Please keep fighting. Don’t lose hope, find something that inspires you, and use it to make you better. Make the most of every minute because life is unpredictable, beautiful, and ephemeral. That’s kinda the whole point isn’t it?

I could keep talking to you for hours, but at the same time, I feel like there isn’t much more to be said.

I love you Peter, and I know that you will get through this. I believe in you and know that you will do great things in life. There is nothing that you can’t do if you put your mind to it. Keep fighting the good fight. Or should I say keep swinging the good swing. Maybe I should go for, ‘May the Force be with you’? Hopefully that made you laugh or at least smile. God, your smile can save lives. So I feel that it is my personal duty right here and now to remind you to smile everyday. More importantly be the reason someone else smiles.

The world can be dark and scary and cruel. But there is so much beauty and goodness. You just have to seek it out. I wish you the absolute best this world has to offer. I love you, always and forever.  

Oh by the way, just in case there is any doubt, I am totally okay with you move on. In fact I want you to. Find a girl that makes you happy, who makes you more, and then allow yourself to enjoy it. Absolutely under no circumstance do I want you to use me as an excuse to stop living. 

Stay Gold Spider-Man.

And with that, the camera clicked off and the video ended. Peter replayed it again, taking in your voice and smile. This whole thing felt so surreal, like a bad dream that he had simply yet to wake from. That video though, it was something he hadn’t realized that he needed until he had seen it. It was like the fog was beginning to clear and he knew that everything would be okay.

When he woke up, he ate half of his lunch, which satisfied Aunt May. He then sat at his desk to do the impossible task before him. He had to figure out what it was that he wanted to say at your funeral the next day. He must have written and deleted at least 10 speeches. Nothing was good enough. It needed to be perfect. He would sit there in front of that computer for hours. When he finished, he was entirely shocked to see that it was after 2 am. 

May woke him up so that he had plenty of time to get ready for the service. The drive there was silent and Peter was thinking over his speech. When he arrived, Tony came to greet him. He wasn’t surprised to see many of the avengers in attendance. You were always with him at the tower and had become close to several of them. The service was short and sweet, your mom spoke, and then she asked for him to come up and say a few words. 

It was in the moment that he reached the podium that he decided to entirely disregard his speech. And instead, speak from his heart. 

“From the time I was a little kid, I always wanted to be one of the avengers. I wanted to have superpowers and make the world a better place. Y/n taught me that you don’t have to have powers to change the world. You just have to make a choice to be kind and do the right thing. She was one of the bravest and most beautiful people I have ever met. She always saw the best in people and went out of her way to make a difference in the lives of others. She radiated kindness, and inspired those who knew her. She always was there for me and never gave up on me. She taught me how to find the good in everything. She was the love of my life, my best friend, and my hero. She taught me how to become something more than I ever thought I could be. She saved my life in more ways than one and I will carry her with me every day of my life.” he finished quickly returning to his seat.

A/N: This is sad, but that’s okay. There is character death and also a car accident. There will be a part two, named AFTER, coming out very shortly.

“When you can do the things that I can and you don’t and then the bad things happen, they happen because of you”

That quote was Peter’s answer when Tony had asked him why he was Spider-Man. He knew that he could use his power to do a multitude of things, but he had decided to use it to help people, to protect his community, to be a hero.

But what was the point now? What was the point of any of this if he couldn’t save you?

Every time he closed his eyes he was back in that car. The two of you were on your way to celebrate your two year anniversary. You were talking about your plans for college and your graduation that was right around the corner. Peter had been planning everything out about this night for weeks. He was nervous that he had gone slightly overboard, but Mr. Stark and Pepper assured him that it was going to be perfect.

He looked over at you as you were singing along to one of your favorite songs on the radio. His chest filled with adoration and eased any nerves that he had. He was about to continue the conversation when his spidey senses went off. He quickly looked for the source of danger but was cut off as a car collided with your own on the driver’s side.

The next thing he remembered was the smell. He couldn’t tell what it was exactly, maybe the car’s fuel, maybe the airbags. Then the pain. He reached up to feel the side of his head which was covered in blood. He seemed to be pinned to the seat. He was extremely disoriented and found it hard to focus. That was at least until the panic set in. He remembered where he was and who he was with. He looked over and realized that you weren’t in the car.

He struggled through the previously unrealized pain in his shoulder to reach his phone. He called the one person who could help him, the person who had always been there to help him.

“Hello Pete, how’s the big date going? Give her the ring yet?” 

“T-Tony-”

“Peter what’s wrong? Where are you?” he cut him off already summoning one of his suits.

“We were- there was a car- and I-” Peter tried but he was freaking out.

“Friday track Peter’s location and notify 911” Tony said to his AI.

“Peter, it’s okay I’m on my way, are you hurt?”

“I’ll b-be fine. No-nothing worse than I’ve dealt w-with before,” he answered.

“And how’s Y/n?”

“I-I don’t know. She’s n-not in the car and I can’t g-get out,” he replied as his breathing started to get faster.

“It’s okay Pete, just try to calm down. I’m almost there and help is on the way,” Tony reassured.

“Thanks, Mr. Stark,” Peter breathed,

True to his word, Tony touched down moments later. Seeing the state off the two cars he was surprised that anyone was going to be walking away from the accident. He quickly went to where Peter was and started to get him out of the car.

“No, go find Y/n first. I’ll be fine. Just go help her.” he pleaded. 

Tony moved around to where you were laying on the ground. He immediately knelt down and had Friday scan your vitals. You were seemingly unconscious with a large piece of glass sticking out of your chest and blood from where your head met the cement. Friday’s scan showed that you had multiple broken bones and were in critical condition with almost no chance of survival. Tony knew that he couldn’t risk moving you, especially since he had no way to stabilize you. He also knew that while help was coming, that it wouldn’t get there in time. Silent tears fell from his eyes as he returned to Peter. 

“How is she? She’s okay right?” Peter asked hopefully.

“Kid- she,” Tony started. 

Peter didn’t even need to see his face to know. That tone is the same tone every adult used when they told him devastating news. It was the tone from when his parents died. The tone from when his uncle was murdered.

“No, she has to be okay, she-” he started crying. 

“Pete, she’s not-, I need to get you out of here so you can say goodbye,” Tony tried, his own emotion taking over. 

He used the strength of his suit to pull the door off of the mutilated car. He then carefully readjusted Peter’s seat to free him. He had Friday do a scan to see the severity of his injuries. Besides the shoulder and concussion, he had bruised ribs and was experiencing multiple symptoms of shock. Tony helped him out and supported most of his weight as he led him to you.

Peter immediately sunk down and was debating the best way to hold you. He wanted more than anything to pull you into his arms, but he was so afraid of making things worse. Tears were gliding down his cheeks as took your hand in his and called your name. Despite how much he wanted you to be okay, somewhere deep down he knew Tony was right. This was it. He was drawn out of his thoughts as he heard your quiet voice.

“P-Peter?”

“Hey, I’m right here,” he said as he leaned over you so you could see his face.

“What happened?” you asked struggling through your thoughts.

“We were in a car accident, but it’s okay help is on the way,”

“Peter, you’re bleeding,” you say taking in his appearance. You made the mistake of trying to sit up and grimaced in pain.

“Easy Y/n, just try to lie still,” he all but whispered.

“I’m so sorry,” you said as tears escaped your eyes.

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” 

“I ruined our date,” you tried

“What? This? This is still not the worst date I’ve been on,” he tried to joke.

You smiled. God he loved that smile. He wanted to spend the rest of his life making you smile. This was so unfair. Why? Why did this have to happen to you? Why now?

“Peter, what’s wrong?”

But even as the words left your mouth, you knew. You knew that you weren’t going to be okay. That this was how it would end. And, you realized that Peter most know this too. You didn’t want to go, you didn’t want to leave him. It was supposed to be the two of you against the world. You were supposed to graduate together, and go to college, and get married, and have kids, and make the world a better place. There was so much that you were supposed to do. But none of that mattered now did it? You braced yourself and decided to make the most of the few minutes you may have left. 

“I love you so much, Peter Parker,” you started.

“Y/n, please don’t,” he cried.

“Pete, you are the bravest, kindest, person I know. You’ll be okay. It’ll take time but-”

“Stop it!”

“It’s okay Peter,”

“No, it’s not, I can’t lose you too,” he cried.

You were at a loss for words. The excruciating pain you once felt was numbing. You knew that you were running out of time.

“Peter, tell me you love me,”

“I do, I-I love you so-so much,” he sobbed.

“Promise- Promise me- you’ll move on. That you’ll be happy,” 

“Y/n I-”

“Promise, that you won’t shut down. You have so many people who love you. Let them help you,” you struggled as it became harder and harder to breath, unconsciousness - no, death- was creeping in.

“I promise,” he replied.

“Good,” you whispered eyes closing and chest falling for the last time.

“Y/n? Y/n wake up. Come on I don’t want to do this with out you. Just-just stay with me. Help is coming. I-I love you. I love you so much.” Peter cried pulling your lifeless body off of the ground and craddling you in his arms. 

Tony, who had returned from helping the people in the other car, minimized his suit and went over to Peter. He honestly didn’t know what to do, his heart broke for the kid. He gently went to his side putting his hand on Peter’s shoulder.

“She’s gone,” he whispered.

“I know Pete,” he said sadly.

“We should really get you back to the tower, to the med-bay, I can have Happy go pick up your aunt.” 

“I don’t want to leave her.”

“The paramedics are here, they’re going to take her.”

It’s an angsty one shot, I told you. It’s based on an old one I wrote last year.

“I doubt he’ll open the door,” John explains again. He had warned you. About Sherlock as a person, and especially as a boyfriend. John told you what he did with Janine. You should’ ve known. And yet you got involved with him, gave him your trust.

So far you’ve actually got along with him quite well, with his little quirks, his behaviour. But this, what is happening right now, makes you so incredibly angry. Because it’s proof of exactly what John told you.

That Sherlock is reckless, that he doesn’t care about some things, that he really can’t see some things.

You look at the cake in your hand, which is getting heavier and heavier, and take it in your other hand. Disappointment means nothing other than the end of a illusion. And that is always unpleasant, but this just hurts. Normally you would be asleep at this time, thanks to your fantastic working hours. And he knows that. He must know, because he knows your schedule better than you do, he’s proven that more than once.

Pairing: Sherlock x Reader

Summary: When a case goes wrong and leaves you in a bad way, guilt begins to get to Sherlock, who’s holding himself accountable.

Word Count: 2,755

Warnings: Angst, Fluff

The pool closed at 8 p.m. You and Sherlock arrived half an hour later. Of course, nothing was stopping you from investigating the poolside murder during opening hours. But Sherlock opted to wait till after closing time. Something about there being no officers from the Yard in the way and therefore ‘no excess stupid.’ Not that you needed any convincing anyway.

After jumping a fence and picking a few locks, you and Sherlock were in. Breaking and entering was a surprisingly simple task when you knew what you were doing.