The Post-it Predicament (a Sherlockxreader fan fiction)

Six- Mycroft

A/N: Shacha reader-chan! Holy bell peppers, batman, 133 reads. *takes a minute to jump up and down and scream into a pillow* THANK YOU GORGEOUS PEOPLE!!!! Remember I'm taking romantic suggestions, so if you really really want something to happen between you and Sherlock just let me know :) LOVE YOU ALL!

Your POV

Your lips moved against Sherlock's so perfectly, you melted into him. Your brain cursed you for feeling the way you did but you let it happen. Sherlock kissed you, not the other way around. He gripped the back of your neck and face so lovingly. You placed your fingers in his curls. You felt him gently caress your bottom lip with his tongue, and was about to allow him entry, when he quickly pulled away.

"I-" you were about to say something. You didn't know what. Maybe apologize? But definitely not those words. Not those three words. You obviously didn't love him already. Right?

"I'm going to bed." he interrupted and walked past you without any other words.

***

You found yourself unable to sleep. Not because of your restless thinking, but because you were ill. Very ill. For about the fifth time that night you ran to the bathroom. This time you accidentally knocked down a bottle of soap, it making a loud noise.

A tired looking Sherlock came rushing into the bathroom.

"Oh my god!" He exclaimed then ran over to you. He grabbed a hold of your (hair colour) hair and gently pulling it back behind you, his touch sending shivers down your spine.

You eventually stopped and turned around. "Th-thanks."

"Come on," he tried to help you up but you nearly collapsed in his arms. He held onto you and walked you to your room.

He helped you into the bed and got you a glass of water.

He was just about to walk out the door when you hoarsely said: "Will you please stay?"

No argument was made by the consulting detective as he got into the bed next you, gently playing with your hair until you sweetly drifted to sleep.

**** (Blimey Moose, two lazy transitions? yeah I know sorry :/)

Your eyes quickly snapped open at the sound of someone clearing their throat. At your jump, Sherlock woke up. You tried to hold back a smile; he slept in here with you all night. Before you, sat a tall man with an average weight. his hair was receding down two sides and he was smirking contently. You thought he sort of of looked like an ostrich. 

"Well, isn't this...charming," He said. 

Sherlock didn't seem as alarmed as you did. His head was still laying on the pillow with his eyes closed. "What do you want, Mycroft," he mumbled.

"H-how did you get in here!" You yelled. 

He chuckled then walked over to you and held out his arm as a handshake. "Mycroft Holmes,  British Government, British Secret Service, and Freelancer for the CIA."

You carefully grabbed his hand "(f/n) (l/n), unemployed and-" you looked over at a now sitting up Sherlock "-not sleeping with your son." 

"He's my brother."

"Really?" you asked. "Look, either way, nothing's going on."

"Oh trust me, I know." 

"What?"

"Just come out ot the sitting room once you're dressed. Sherlock, I need to speak with you."

He sauntered out of the room and you looked over to Sherlock.