Sherlock Imagines

Meeting Sherlock🕵🏼‍♂️John X Reader

You'd been going on dates with John for nearly a year now. The two of you made it official a few months back. Now, you feel as if your relationship is taking another step up tonight; you're not sure how you know, but you just do.

For dinner, you dressed in nice, elaborate attire; you're trying to be careful so you don't get food on your new, beautiful dress. John's brought you to a fancy restaurant, claiming it to be a special occasion.

During dinner, John seems more nervous than usual. You have an idea of what could possibly be going on; you've narrowed it down to two things: a break- up or a proposal.
You're assuming it to be the latter.

You watch John nervously sip his drink, his mustache so close to the liquid, it almost touches. The thought makes you snort, which startles John.

Suddenly, the maitre'd comes to the table, full of energy, speaking with speed, and a funny accent. You begin to laugh at this guy, who is putting John on edge. He leaves the table to get a wine, leaving you and John alone.

John suddenly clears his throat and takes your hand from across the table. You raise an eyebrow, but clutch his hand nonetheless.

John is about to begin a speech, when the maitre'd returns. He has the wine in hand, and begins to talk about it as he pours it into your glasses. Then, he 'accidentally' pours some wine in John's lap, causing John to look at him furiously.

John's face reddens with anger as the man reveals himself as Sherlock Holmes. John stands up, redder than a tomato, and swings a good punch right in Sherlock's face, not missing. John headbutts Sherlock, knocking both of them over into the floor.

You sigh, putting money on the table, and gather the boys. "Come on, you two. Cut it out. You're grown men; act like it," you say sternly. They get off the floor, and gou haul them onto the street.

"Now, John, care to introduce me to your friend?" You ask. John scowls. "I'd hardly call Sherlock Holmes a friend, (Y/N), especially after faking his death for two bloody years, and not giving me one word to know that he was alive," John rants.

Sherlock sighs. "It was for your protection," Sherlock says. John growls. You sigh. "Alright, boys; enough. We'll settle this later. For now, let's go home John. You and Sherlock can fight it out tomorrow," you say.

Sherlock smirks at John, causing John to give him a murderous glare. Once again, you sigh.

Boys will be boys.