Sherlock Imagines

Matching Tattoos⭐️🌙Sherlock

Prompt- Emerald and Sherlock get matching tattoos.

Requested by- @xAvengersFanx

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I became bored around two hours ago. Still, after these two hours, I can find no way to satiate the boredom. Sherlock went out to finish a case with John three hours ago.

Still, in an attempt to relieve myself of the boredom that had overcome me, I flick through a book, carelessly tossing it aside when I see that it's the boring romance novel Mrs. Hudson brought up the other day. I sigh, forcing myself to get off the couch. If I can't find something to do in the sitting room, I will go into the kitchen and make a cuppa. Surely a cuppa will do some to resolve the current issue of my boredom.

Slowly, I make my way into the cluttered kitchen to make my Earl Grey. Shoving aside a microscope and some eyeballs, I pick up the kettle and set to work on my tea. While the kettle heats up, I hear two sets of footsteps sound outside the flat. Sighing, I continue to work on my tea as the door opens and Sherlock strides into the room, coat fluttering silently around as he pulls it off. John sits in his typical chair, chuckling.

"You were right as usual, Emmy. It was the brother," John says. Sherlock, pouring as a toddler would, plops into his usual chair and sighs. Knowing his irritation at the incorrect deduction he had made earlier about the mum, I smile slightly.

"You know what this means, Sherlock," I say, reminding him of he bet we had placed earlier that morning as we'd looked over the case file together. He makes no acknowledgement of my words. John grins widely.

I sip my tea cautiously, moving to stand in front of Sherlock. He looks up at me—for once in his bloody life, I was looking down at him—with a slight dash of fear in his crystalline irises. I smirk, sipping my tea once again.

"Emerald, I would rather not receive a tattoo. It's permanent," he says, already knowing that my mind is made up and he'd lost.

"Precisely, which is why you will get a tattoo with me," I say, triumphant at my victory, "if you even consider chickening out, I'll call Myc and tell him of what happened last week."

"Fine, I'll get the tattoo," Sherlock says, rising from the chair. He takes the cuppa from me, turning it up. I watch him saunter into the kitchen, shock apparent in my expression. John attempts to stifle a chuckle, watching the interaction. I roll my eyes, making my irritation apparent.

Sherlock returns from the kitchen, heading to the door. He throws my coat at me and dons his. I manage to pull on my coat before Sherlock tugs me out the door and to the street below. He manages to call a cab, pulling me into it.

"Why are you suddenly so excited to get a tattoo? Mere minutes ago, you were pouting," I say, confusion lacing my tone. Sherlock glances at me, then looks out the window.

"We should get this over with before I regret this," Sherlock says. A smirk tugs at the corners of my mouth. He's utterly terrified, I realise.

The cab stops in front of a dingy, back-alley shopping strip that looks as if it was built for ruffians. I hide a wide grin as Sherlock's concerned gaze settles onto my seemingly neutral expression. I drag him into he tattoo parlour, stopping in front of Frank, the guy behind the counter. Frank looks up from his phone to see his customers. He smirks at the sight of Sherlock.

"I see you managed to pull this rotter into the parlour, Emmy," he says, a smirk growing as he slowly rises from his seat.

"That I did, Frank. Now, this one's going first so he doesn't chicken out. Did you get the picture I sent earlier?" Frank nods.

—————

Sherlock grabs my hand, his clear eyes searching my face for any hint of concern. His search is a fail, as my expression is only that of amusement.

I squeeze his hand and run my free hand through his curls. He seems to ease up a bit, but the poor bloke's still tense as a cat on a hot tin roof. Deciding to be a good girlfriend for once, I peck his temple.

"Sherl, you'll be fine. It's not going to hurt very much. It'll feel like a sunburn," I reassure. Frank finishes setting up and pulls on latex gloves.

"Look into Emmy's eyes, and just talk to her about whatever's on your mind. When you finish talking, It'll be over," Frank says. For once, Sherlock listens, and keeps his eyes trained on me. I smile reassuringly as I continuously run my free hand through his dark curls.

Sherlock clears his throat as if to clear his nerves.

"John and I..."

————

I smile as Frank finishes my tat.

"Looking good, Frank," I compliment, watching as he adds the final details. Sherlock watches the process with avid interest.

Frank puts his tattoo gun on the table and cleans up my wrist.

"Now we can be #couplegoals without even trying!" I exclaim to Sherlock. He smiles slightly. I turn to Frank.

"How much do I owe?" I ask. Frank shakes his head.

"Because you managed to pull Sherl in here, it's on the house," Frank says. I smile, grasping Sherlock's tattooed arm. I put mine side-by-side with his.

"Now it says 'The game is on' if we put our arms together!" I exclaim. Sherlock smiles warily.

"Let's get you to the flat, you poor thing. Bye, Frank!"

—————

"He actually went through with it?" John asks, astounded by the fact Sherlock actually went through with getting the tattoo.

"He did! And I am ever so proud!" I beam. I sit on the arm of Sherl's chair. He pulls me down to sit in his lap.

"In fact, he did so well, I've decided to forgive him for the tea incident this morning," I say. John chuckles.

"I thought you were okay with that," Sherlock says, confused.

"When is it ever okay to drink a girl's tea?"