John looked peaceful, his head lulling back and hands clasped together in his lap. His mouth was slightly open, and his breathing even. How had he fallen asleep so perfectly? Most people who had fallen asleep around Sherlock (which was, admittedly, not many) had slept awfully, loud and snorty, sometimes thrashing around, sometimes making weird sounds you're only capable of making while asleep. He sat next to the doctor, being careful not to disturb his slumber. Closing his eyes, Sherlock tried to get to his mind palace. To his dismay, too many thoughts cluttered his head. That had never happened before. Sherlock groaned softly, keeping his eyes closed. Maybe he should get some sleep. He knew John would want him to. "Ah John, what would I do without you?" Sherlock whispered to the sleeping man beside him on the couch. "I'd be a half dead robot if you weren't here. I almost was. I almost was." A small sigh escaped his lips as he slipped into the cool relief of sleep.

I'm about to tell you a story about a girl. A normal girl. A girl that had no cares in the world, until her trust for it was stripped away. When you read her story, you'll find yourself trusting her, loving her, rooting for her. But you see, not everyone gets to trust the world. Not everyone has a happy ending. --- Halfway through the kiss however, his attitude changed; instead of being a loving embrace, it became a fierce trap. His grip on her waist tightened, trapped her where she was instead of simply holding her where he wanted her. The hand in her hair grabbed a section of it, enforcing his demand for her not to go anywhere. Before she knew what was happening, he left go of her hair, and pushed her to the ground. She gasped, suddenly able to breathe. He stood up and walked over to her. He placed a soft hand on her cheek, just like he used to when he was telling her how special she was to him. None of the emotion was there this time however, all she could feel radiating from his was rage. "You shouldn't have run off, babe," he said bitterly. "I was about to show you how much I loved you. Instead, I now have to show you what happens when you anger me." --- The men regarded her, before she was shoved to the ground and one produced a whip. There, laying broken on the floor, as the other girls watched, she was whipped. Slowly, she felt her skin breaking in time with her heart and her will.

I thought I could kill the pain. How could I be so stupid? The fall was terrifying. The pain was never ending. But it never ends. It remains, and it will always remain. Hidden. Buried. The dark is so cold. It's so empty, I'm empty, and I have nothing to fill it with anymore. "This love has taken its toll on me, and I have no choice, cause I won't say goodbye anymore...."* A Johnlock (and a little Myry) fanfic full of song references, heartbreak, depression, emptiness, emotion, possible death, and love to cure it all. Will they ever be reunited? And can Sherlock prove to John that he's alive, before John commits a crime neither would recover from? *Song reference: Maroon 5 - This Love

I could still feel the numbness in my limbs and the piercing pain on my shoulder as I tried to adjust my eyes to the light. There was a constant banging sound in my ear and it was slowly fading away. My vision was blurry and as i adjust my focus, i saw all four of my so called brothers in front of me. They all looked.....worried. I was still not used to their insane acting skills because for a sec i believed it. Maybe I was deceiving myself. What if they actually cared? Before i completely lost it i woke up and tried to pull the plugs and syringe in me....and to say I regretted it was an understatement. Raffaele immediately held me and Damian was screaming for the doctor. I snapped and pushed him away. I didn't know why I was in an hospital. The last thing I remember was holding a gun against my head. "Where is he" The first person I looked for as soon as I woke up was him but he was no where to be seen. I was scared for him, my brothers were capable of doing anything. "He is dead" I couldn't make out who said it because as soon as I heard it my world went black. **************************** Amelia was deceived her whole life. The man she thought was her father was actually her kidnapper. She was locked away from the world her entire life and the constant abuse was all that she could remember . Years later, her brothers comes back to get her after finding out their long lost sister is alive...... But these brothers can't keep their little princess to themselves for long. Lucas Hermandez. To him Amelia is his light, the only one who can tame this demon. The moment when she went missing he turned the world upside down trying to find her. He'd burn the world if it meant he could find her. What will happen when he finds out she's back? Amelia's determined about one thing - never to trust anyone again, and her brothers are reluctant to win back her trust. She is no longer the sweet girl they once knew. ********************

Hi, reader! I'm glad you've stumbled upon my book. You will find plenty of Sherlock x Reader imagines in here, but I also write imagines/preferences with other BBC Sherlock characters from time to time! My imagines are usually a mix of angst and fluff. Sometimes I write lots of fluff and sometimes a lot of angst. There is something here for everyone! I hope you enjoy this book! And don't hesitate to leave a comment. I love hearing from my readers. I wish you all a wonderful day! :) **Requests are CLOSED!**

Pretty much what it says on the tin. There will be happy, cute, fluffy oneshots, but others will be sad and angsty. My writing is trash, but it's high quality trash. Harry and Glyn (from school) - you have read this before, please do not read it again or I will have the incentive to hurt you Please don't steal my ideas (unless I'm using a prompt) without giving credit and/or asking first :) I do not and will not write smut. Requests are closed indefinitely unless I miraculously rejoin the fandom. I do not own the characters or some of the plot. All of the characters belong to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle and the BBC, or they are based off of people I know in real life. Enjoy :)

Empty. Baker Street, and the entirety of the City of London, is empty. The streets are no longer busy with cars or pedestrians; it's deserted. Sherlock Holmes and John Watson are the only people around. But they're not alone. The Diseased---people who have caught a strange, rabid-like disease go into a state of madness in which they have the lust to kill anyone they come across---litter the streets. And John is one of them. When Sherlock comes from being in his Mind Palace for longer than he thought for a case he was solving, he finds out that a sudden apocalypse has taken over London, and a mysterious disease has plagued half the population, and they litter the streets. To his horror, John is somehow caught with the disease. The consulting detective finds himself on the most dangerous, and overwhelming case he has ever been on, one that will test his love for John. And that case is to find a cure for his best friend before he loses him to the strange, apocalyptic disease forever. And Sherlock is prepared to walk right through hell, if it means finding a cure for the one man he loves most in the world. ⚠️ ***TRIGGER WARNING*** ⚠️ This fanfic is rated M for a reason! Will contain..... -Swearing -Violence -Gore -Drug references -Sexual content -Suggestions of abuse If you are triggered by any of this, then I advise you to NOT read it! I don't want anyone reporting my story because they failed to notice it's rated M and didn't care to read the warning here. "Why all of that, though?" you may be wondering. Well, it's the apocalypse, and in an apocalypse.....all kinds of shit can happen. Am I right? And I tend to be a little dark sometimes.

He was looking at Sherlock Holmes. Yet not the one he would have expected. Distinctive changeable eyes, lined by a row of long dense lashes, showed an expression of a wild animal standing in the glare of approaching headlights. Of a man driven into a corner. Simply expressed, an expression of pure horror, something you don't see on a famous consulting detective most of the time. John opened his mouth, but after a realisation that he has no idea of what he wanted to say, he closed it again. He wasn't welcomed by a mutilated, smashed face. The severed spine could be ruled out straight away, and he seemed to have all his limbs as well. He felt an endless relief when he saw solid, uninjured skin where the blood flowed the last time. Nevertheless, the scene he was offered tugged the carpet under his feet and he had to admit (if a bit grudgingly) that Mycroft was right-he did not exaggerate when warning him it might be a shock. Trigger warnings: This story contains references to violence and its description, and also deals with self-esteem issues and body image. If something triggers you, please proceed with caution or reconsider if you want to continue reading. PS: English isn't my native language and I'm a bit unsure of my style, but I hope you will like it. Enjoy the story!

Mycroft had always warned Sherlock that feelings can get in the way, especially when it comes to his chosen line of work. Typically, this would be the one thing the two brothers could agree on, however, when you reappear on his doorstep after years of no contact, informing Sherlock that your life's in danger, he's left struggling with both his feelings and what happened in your shared past. How can he possibly pretend such strong emotions have never existed when they still remain?

S⃞   h⃞   e⃞   r⃞   l⃞   o⃞   c⃞   k⃞    H⃞   o⃞   l⃞   m⃞   e⃞   s⃞    x⃞    F⃞   e⃞   m⃞   a⃞   l⃞   e⃞    O⃞   C⃞ Ivy Liu takes a slow drag of her cigarette, watching Sherlock with those sharp, unblinking eyes that seem to see too much. She steps closer, her voice low but piercing, as if each word is a scalpel cutting through the layers he's wrapped around himself. "You wear your intellect like armor, Sherlock, but even the sharpest mind can't hide the fractures underneath. You think the world is a stage and you're the only actor that matters, but the truth is, we're all performing for someone, even when we're alone. You create this facade of apathy, of superiority, because it's easier than admitting that the void you feel isn't invincibility-it's emptiness. You can solve a thousand cases, but in the silence of your own mind, when no one's watching, you'll have to face the one puzzle you can't crack: yourself. And what terrifies you most isn't that no one understands you-it's that someday, someone might." Her gaze lingers on him for a moment, reading his silence before turning away, her words settling like dust in the empty space between them. DISCLAIMER!!!!!: (I DO NOT OWN ANY OF THE SIR ARTHUR CONAN DOYLE SHERLOCK CHARACTERS NOR THE BBC SHERLOCK CHARACTERS AND PLOT. I DO NOT OWN THE ARTWORK DISPLAYED IN THE COVER OF THE STORY. I ONLY OWN MY OC.)