Babysitting

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Thank you all so, so much for more than 270K reads. That's just an incredible amount, thank you so much! I managed to squeeze in this update in my busy schedule and hopefully I'll manage to write the next request in line tomorrow. I'm so sorry to make you all wait so long but the holiday is approaching and then updates will be more frequent. While you wait, you can check out my SherlockxReader fic if you haven't already. Hopefully, I'll be able to update that story as well soon. Have a lovely day everyone ♥

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A yawn escaped Sherlock's lips as he groggily began to make himself a cup of coffee. Sleep had been rare for the detective lately and no matter how hard he tried, he just ended up tossing and turning in his bed for hours. This kind of time wasting was not something he felt like doing, so after another long night of not getting any sleep, he decided to simply drown himself in caffeine instead. 

As soon as the coffee finished brewing, Sherlock poured it into his mug and lazily sauntered to his chair. He sat down with a huff and took small sips of the burning liquid as he stared at the empty seat in front of him. It was no lie to say that the sociopath was lonely. Ever since John left with his wife, Mary, to go on their honeymoon, Sherlock hadn't had any visitors over. Even Mrs Hudson, his kind landlady, didn't come up to his flat anymore and loneliness soon began to crawl its way up to 221B. He pretended to be fine with that, to be enjoying it, but that was for the sole purpose of attempting to trick himself. He was alone and he hated it. He had never liked being alone before and, unfortunately for him, it hadn't changed in the slightest. Back in the days, this was a subject he and his older brother could connect on, but ever since Mycroft introduced himself to another dear friend of Sherlock's, that level of connection had faded completely. The government official had gotten married to Scotland Yard's finest Detective Inspector, Gregory Lestrade, and he had never been so happy in his life. The couple even went as far as adopting a little girl. They were the perfect family in Sherlock's eyes and although he'd never admit it, he was incredibly jealous of his sibling. He hated this suffocating loneliness that just seemed to get harder and harder to deal with, but his pride kept him from going out and seeking help or company. It was his blessing and his curse.

The loud ringing of the bell downstairs made the detective jump up in fright. His luckily empty mug nearly shattered on the floor as he dropped it, but was saved by the softness of the red carpet. Sherlock quickly picked it up, placing it securely on the small table next to his chair before hurrying downstairs. On any other occasion, he would've shouted for Mrs Hudson to get the door, but in his lonely state, Sherlock was eager to see if the people at the door were looking for him. Perhaps, he could find some company in them. He skipped the final step of the stairs and jumped on the floor before opening the door. The slight hope in his face disappeared as his eyes met his older brother's. 

''Good morning, Sherlock,'' Mycroft greeted, a sincere smile on his face. The younger Holmes' gaze drifted to what- or better to say who was in the arms of his older sibling. ''Is there something you need?'' Sherlock huffed. ''Excellent deduction, brother mine,'' Mycroft retorted sarcastically. The detective rolled his eyes. ''Gregory and I have been invited to a last minute party at Buckingham Palace and, unfortunately, our babysitter isn't available today. So, we came to the conclusion that it would be a great idea for you to spend time with (Y/N) and take care of her while we're gone,'' Mycroft said, slightly bouncing you up and down as you fumbled with the fabric of your father's coat. ''No,'' Sherlock decided, trying to shut the door. Mycroft was quick enough to block it with his foot and forced it back open. ''Brother mine, she is your niece and in the twelve months that she has been alive, you haven't once spent some quality time with her. It's about time that you do.'' Mycroft forced the purple bag that belonged to you in Sherlock's hands. ''Please, Sherlock,'' The older Holmes begged. Sherlock sighed deeply but gave in. ''Fine, but don't make this a habit,'' He warned. ''I wouldn't dare.''

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