[CONTAINS SMUT!] ❗️18+❗️
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Being the youngest Holmes was always quite the journey, especially when you didn't want to show off your talents, maybe even lack of such. Compared to your brothers you were always the 'dumb' one. The teachers saw it, yo...
There wasn't anything wrong with you. Yes, you were a Holmes but doesn't mean you were a pompous umbrella enthusiast or junkie psychopath- apologies, you meant High functioning sociopath.
Do your research, Y/n!
You could practically hear him scorn you. Of course when you did say this it was all to annoy Sherlock like a good little sister.
Lacking slightly in the deducing department of the classic Holmes siblings mind was always annoying. Sherlock and Mycroft always had their competition where they'd see who's mind was bigger... the intelligent version of a 'My dick's bigger' competition.
Smart? Of course you were! Gifted child? Not since primary school. You graduated with a masters in classic literature and fine arts, nothing like Sherlock's or Mycroft's many many scientific plus mathematical degrees.
It was always a boring thing to ponder. As Sherlock would say, "you wasted your little talent on such petty things, N/n,"
To which Mycroft would add, "try not to belittle our youngest sister with truth, Sherlock, you are aware how much she despises it,"
You learned to ignore such comments over the years; they only wanted the best for you but they were awfully bad at expressing empathy. That's where you didn't lack, the emotional range and acknowledgment was something you seemed to have removed from them as they had taken your intelligence.
However, despite wishing nothing more than to torment and tease you, they weren't the worst brothers! Well, at least they were protective, maybe even a little too much.
Who could blame them?
Let us review the David incident of 95': A young girl, Y/n, at the age of 10 falls in love with a boy, David, who was at that time 15. Boys have been known to develop their brains later on than women so the incident where David stood the young girl up was ruled off by her for him being forgetful. Sherlock however sent David's brother off the follow David that night where the little boy, 8, got photos of David kissing another girl. The classic ditch and cheat act.
David was then intimidated, without physical contact, by Mycroft's contacts who occupied the dark alleys near the library, an incident in it's self. Case and sentence settled with only a little girl left wondering why her dear David suddenly moved away. Only to find out years ago the real reason, where she became thankful of her brothers; after a small scold.
Then let us go further to 05', the case of Kyle Hawthel and the curious bag: Two weeks into a relationship, young 20 year old Y/n met up with her partner Kyle in the local pub by their university, Cambridge. Y/n had drunk a few beers and one mixer when Kyle took her to the back alley, equally as drunk, taking out a curious black bag. Inside was a white powder which Kyle quickly took a snort of, but as Y/n refused to take part, he threatened to kill her if she didn't do it.
Luckily, Mycroft had arrived in town on official business and passed the pub, looking for his youngest sibling. One swift hit of his umbrella against the neck of Kyle, Mycroft took Y/n away from the scene as police dealt with the man.
Evidently you had bad taste in men... but that was in the past, you've had your fair share of good boyfriends as well as horrible ones but nothing so severe that your brother's had to intervene.
Now, John Watson was almost a savior for you, finally a normal person! You both hit it off, strictly platonic, and John became yet another protective figure, except this time he understood your pop culture references.
It seemed that this normal man was the one to drag your idiotic brother out of his burrow of body parts and rancid acid, crime scene photos and murder weapons. You could finally sleep in without Sherlock dragging you out by your nightgown to get dressed to lure the murderer out.
He would never let you get hurt but the hours were inhumane!
No matter, because despite all this-
"Will you stop thinking so loudly?" Sherlock murmurs making you look over to him on his self proclaimed throne, your teaspoon halting it's process of silent stirring, a trick you mastered after many complaints from both brothers.
"Sorry, let me just shut down like a computer so you can continue your day dream about John,"
"What is that supposed to mean??" Sherlock narrowed at you, lifting from his seat and peering down at your relaxing figure on the couch.
"Nothing~" sipping smugly at your tea, there was a sudden rapid knock on the door, Lestrade opening it with John behind him holding milk. Thank god for John!
"You have two cases, one is double homicide, the other is a robbery,"
"For god's sake, Sherly, let the man speak, he has a mouth after all," you scorn. "Go on, Greg,"
"Greg? Who's Greg?" For being a genius, your brother was horrible with names. "You? I thought it was George?"
"Nope, It's always been Greg," Lestrade places down files on the table, indifferently.
"No, no, I'm certain it was George last week,"
"And the week before?" You muse.
"Geoffrey? Doesn't matter," Sherlock picked up the file and flipped through the pictures and report. "Mother did it for money, murder weapon... is literally right there!" He slams the file down, pointing to an insulin pen.
"The Insulin?? The victim is diabetic," John notes making Sherlock scoff.
"Test the supposed Insulin, tell me what you find," he takes the other file and flicks through. "Oh! Oh, yes, this will do quite well,"
"Good," Lestrade sighs out, still catching his breath from running most likely from the morgue.
"Nope, Scotland Yard," Sherlock corrects, knowing exactly what you thought.
"I hate you,"
"I hate you too," he ruffles your hair before grabbing John and running out.
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