Sherlock Imagines and Preferences 2

After Hours

Hello, my Lovelies!

Am I currently drowning in a swimming pool worth of deadlines? Yes. Did I write this oneshot today instead? Absolutely yes! 

It's just a quick, simply written oneshot of a random idea that popped in my head, but I hope you all enjoy it! Hint: It's a Bookshop AU and fluffy!

Have a wonderful day :)

<♥>

Huffing loudly, you dropped another pile of old books on the table, dust flying everywhere. You stretched your back and smiled at the rough leather bounds and yellow-faded paper.

It had only been a year since you had made your lifelong dream come true. On a little street corner in London, you had opened your own little bookshop. It was small and cosy, sage green painted walls supported tall wooden bookshelves, filled with literature old and new.

Your favourite section was the one at the back. There, you kept your most valuable books. Old ones that had lived with families for decades and had one day found themselves in your hands. Heavy, dusty novels that contained history on their pages.

It was close to eight in the evening when you finished cataloguing the books you had acquired at a flea market that morning. You were more than ready to head home for the day and relax, but fate had other plans.

You looked up from your desk at the sound of the front door opening. "Sorry, sir!" you said quickly, "We close at six."

The tall figure turned to you and spoke in a dull voice, "Criminology?"

You smiled hesitantly. "Sorry?"

The man sighed. "Your section on criminology. Where is it?"

"On your right but –"

The man marched towards the shelves and pulled out several books, dropping them all on the table and quickly leafing through them.

"Sir! We are closed."

He looked up at you, his eyes challenging yours through the loose-hanging curls on his forehead. "You're still here, aren't you?"

"Well, yes. But I was about to go home!" you stuttered.

The man had turned his focus back on the books, his eyes scanning the pages faster than even you could manage. "Are you the owner of this place?" he asked.

"Sorry? Oh, yes. I am the owner, yes." You couldn't help the small smile on your face. The shop was your pride and joy. "But, sir! We really are closed. You can come back tomorrow. I open at 9."

"I'm afraid this is rather urgent."

You huffed in frustration. "Please do not make me phone the police. I don't want to make a fuss!"

The man looked at you again, a smirk evident on his face. "I work with the police."

"Oh." You stood there silent for a moment, feeling completely baffled by the strange man in front of you. "Do you have a badge?" you tried.

"No."

"But you work for the police."

"I work with the police."

"That's different how?" you remarked, feeling some boldness creep up in you.

The man stood up straight, abandoning his books as he now focussed on you. "You ask a lot of questions."