I NEED MORE!! PLEASE! I NEED MORE!

I NEED MORE!! PLEASE! I NEED MORE!

I was wondering if you might write a fic for the RDJ Sherlock Holmes with a gender neutral reader where in A Game of Shadows the reader gets injured and almost dies and Sherlock confronts the reader and ends up confessing his affections? Or really anything with the RDJ Sherlock Holmes? I'm absolutely starved for content. If you don't want to you can absolutely ignore it please don't feel pressured to do anything with this.

I've been on a block recently and decided to write this in order to get rid of it

requests are closed, though

Relationship: Sherlock Holmes x GN Reader

Request: "I was wondering if you might write a fic for the RDJ Sherlock Holmes with a gender neutral reader where in A Game of Shadows the reader gets injured and almost dies and Sherlock confronts the reader and ends up confessing his affections? Or really anything with the RDJ Sherlock Holmes? I'm absolutely starved for content. If you don't want to you can absolutely ignore it please don't feel pressured to do anything with this."

Summary: you get hurt, Sherlock rethinks his priorities

Warnings: mild violence (nothing graphic), bullet wounds

As the sun began to set, you and Sherlock found yourselves deep in the heart of Europe, tracking down the elusive Professor Moriarty. You had always been fascinated by the detective's deductive skills, and had joined him on many of his cases, but this time felt different. Moriarty was a formidable opponent, and you couldn't shake the feeling that something was going to go wrong.

Your fears were soon confirmed when you and Sherlock found yourselves in the midst of a fierce gunfight with Moriarty's men. You tried to keep up with Sherlock's lightning-fast movements, but in the chaos of the battle, you were hit by a stray bullet.

The pain was intense, and you could feel yourself losing consciousness. The last thing you saw before everything went black was Sherlock's concerned face hovering over you.

When you woke up, you were lying in a hospital bed with Sherlock sitting next to you. You tried to sit up, but a wave of pain shot through your body, and you fell back onto the pillows.

"Don't move," Sherlock said softly, placing a hand on your shoulder. "You were lucky to survive."

You looked at him, trying to ignore the pounding in your head. "What happened?"

"You were shot," Sherlock said, his voice uncharacteristically gentle. "But you're going to be okay."

You knew he was trying to reassure you, but you could see the worry etched on his face. You realized then that you had been foolish to think that you could keep up with him on this dangerous mission.

"I'm sorry," you said, your voice barely above a whisper. "I shouldn't have come with you."

Sherlock shook his head. "Don't be ridiculous. You're one of the best partners I've ever had. I couldn't have done it without you."

You smiled weakly, feeling a sense of warmth spread through your body at his words. Despite the pain, you felt strangely content lying there next to him.

But as the days went by, you began to notice something different about Sherlock. He was more attentive, more protective, and more affectionate than ever before. You couldn't help but wonder if it was because of your injury.

One day, as he was helping you to sit up, you mustered up the courage to ask him. "Sherlock, why are you being so...nice to me?"

He paused, looking at you with a mix of surprise and hesitation. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, you're usually so aloof and distant. But ever since I got hurt, you've been different. You've been...caring."

Sherlock took a deep breath, his eyes flickering with emotion. "I suppose... I've realized how much you mean to me. I just couldn't bear the thought of losing you."

You looked at him, stunned. "What are you saying?"

He took your hand in his, his fingers warm and steady. "I'm saying that... I care about you. More than I ever thought possible."

You felt a lump form in your throat as he spoke, the weight of his words settling on you. You had always felt a strong connection to Sherlock, but you never thought he could feel the same way.

"I care about you too," you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

Sherlock leaned in, his lips hovering over yours. "Good," he whispered.

I tend to stay silent for most conversations in social settings, but if you bring up my character crush, I will talk to you like the Energizer Bunny on caffeine and annoy you to the point you wish you never brought them up. *maniacal laugh*

This movie... Oh, this movie. It melted my heart, then ripped it out of my chest, then threw it on the ground, stomped on it until it was nothing but dust. And Lucas, you have made it onto my list of fictional husbands, a compliment of the highest order.

I just finished watching Jagten with Mads Mikkelsen (an old movie, I know) and I haven't been so angry and fired on about anything in a long time as I was with this movie. I don't want to write it down in detail so I don't want get some hate for my opinion. But I really wanted to hug Mads and take him away, put him in my bedroom and defend him from those idiots.. 😭 Those last two minutes were exactly how I feel among some people around me.

(I don't mean my mutuals here, you are my spiritual support 🕊️)

Like seriously, it was very strong and disturbing movie for me. 😵😵😵

And Mads is so brilliat actor, I really admire him so much. 💖

THIS IS SO CUTE! *keyboard smashing intensifies.* 

Hi. I'm wondering if your gif imagines are still open. If so, may I request something cute and fluffy with this gif??:

Because I just got into the fandom and am DESPERATE for fics! Thanks in advance! :)

Hi Jessyca, tysm for the GIF ask! Below you'll find the short blurb I wrote for it. Welcome to the Peaky fandom! If you'd like some additional reading, here's a link to my Masterlist (I write for most characters) and a link to my Rec List for my fave content creators. Enjoy!

Takes One to Know One

You closed your eyes as you attempted to regulate your labored breathing to sound of the steady ragtime music. Placing your hand to your chest, you grasped for the weight of the stolen necklace at your throat, repeating the lie your aunt had rehearsed with you if someone should stop you. I'm Lady Sarah of Connemara, you whispered confidently. By the time anyone realized Lady Sarah didn't exist, you would be long gone. If you could find your way out that was.

The ballroom had grown increasingly crowded and you couldn't be sure of the way you had entered. As you tried in vain to find the exit, an irate looking older man surveyed the crowd and you recognized him instantly as the companion of the woman you'd robbed. You needed cover fast.

Glancing around quickly, you picked the first person you could find. "Dance with me," you insisted, grabbing an unsuspecting man by the arm and dragging him toward the dance floor. A look of confusion swept over his face, but you missed it as you glanced over your shoulder to see if you were still being followed.

You raced to join the throng of people circulating around the floor, packed tightly enough to conceal you. As you pushed your way to the center, your bodies collided with another couple who jeered at you as you passed. Your dance partner apologized briefly before turning to face you, his blue eyes wide as you stepped close to him and pulled his arm to your waist.

"Aren't you going to tell me your name?" he asked with an amused smile.

"Sarah," you replied distractedly, peering over his shoulder. "Lady Sarah....of Connemara," you corrected yourself, nearly forgetting your title. Bringing your full attention back to him, you quickly recovered with a dazzling smile.

"I'm Tommy," he said, eyes dropping to the precious gems at your throat. "That's a very pretty necklace, Lady Sarah," he complimented you.

"Thank you, it's, erm...a family heirloom," you lied, pleased to note you were quickly being carried away from where you started.

As you danced you noted how he carefully moved in time to the music, conversation scarce as he concentrated on the steps of the fox trot. You smiled at his genuine attempt to impress you and as you watched him, you realized he didn't seem as though he belonged there either. His suit was clean and pressed, but it wasn't the finest material available and his haircut was decidedly lower class.

However, you found yourself staring at his chiseled cheekbones and bright eyes that crinkled at the corners when he smiled. He must have felt the attraction as well, smirking at you knowingly with a hint of mischief in his eye. You giggled as he pressed a hand to your back, spinning you in the direction of the exit.

Despite the fun you were having flirting, you remembered you had a car waiting. Keeping your eye fixed on the door at each turn, you bided your time before dropping Tommy's hand suddenly. Thanking him for the dance, you turned to leave, only to feel him grasp your wrist, pulling you back to him.

Tommy's lips brushed your ear gently, hot breath ghosting over the side of your face as he whispered, "I won't tell anyone about the stolen necklace if you give me your telephone number."

You looked back at him slowly, paralyzed with shock. "I don't know what you mean," you said shaking your head.

A smug grin painted his handsome features as he cocked an eyebrow at you. "You're a thief, love, and not a very good one."

Your mouth dropped open at the accusation, mostly because he'd guessed correctly when you thought you'd done a fairly good job fooling everyone around you. "How did you know?" you asked with a gulp.

"Takes one to know one, I reckon," he said. "Now about that number?"

HUGS ALL AROUND!!!!!

I'm watching Lyle, Lyle Crocodile with my niece (her new favourite movie, besides Frozen) and it's surprisingly good.

What can I say? I'm a kid at heart.