Sherlock Imagines and Preferences 2

After Hours

"And you have a peculiar understanding of what 'We are closed' means," you challenged.

He smirked. "When Scotland Yard is out of their depth – which is always – they call me. That's the difference."

"You're a private investigator then?"

"Consulting detective. Only one in the world," he stated with a sense of pride.

"Sounds... fun?" you offered.

The man chuckled and you couldn't help but smile yourself. This man was certainly eccentric but you felt strangely comfortable around him. Going home had not even crossed your mind as you spoke to him.

"Are you still insistent on going home?" he asked. "I could use a hand."

You shrugged. "I could help, I guess. What is it you're looking for?"

"I'm researching a case. I have a feeling I'm dealing with a killer of a certain type. I was hoping one of these books could shed some light on the matter."

You took a seat across from him and smiled. "I know these books like no other."

The man bent over the books again, but his eyes were still on yours. "Sherlock Holmes," he revealed.

"(Y/N)(Y/L/N)."

"It's good to have your expertise, (Y/N)."

< >

You trudged up the stairs, a stack of books balancing in your arms. "Sherlock!" you called. "I got the books you wanted!"

The door to 221B flew open. "There you are, (Y/N)!" Sherlock called out, swiftly scooping up the books and heading back inside. "It's about time you showed up. I'm this close to catching my killer!"

"That's great," you mumbled. "You couldn't have stopped by my bookshop for all of those? I'm not a delivery person, Sherlock. I have to work, too."

He looked up. "I thought you were working with me?"

It was true. Ever since that first night at your bookshop, working with Sherlock on his cases had become a regular thing. You would often visit him at his flat, usually carrying some books with you that he had requested. 

Sometimes, when he was without a case, he'd come to your bookshop and help you organise the shelves. He had even brought some books with him on occasion for you to add to your collection. The books he gave you were never put on sale. You kept them in a special spot in your own flat.

"I am but I also have a bookshop to run, you know."

"Speaking of your bookshop. You forgot one of the encyclopaedias I requested."

"I sold it to a little boy and his mother last week. I'm sure you can find a digital copy on the internet somewhere."

Sherlock hummed in disapproval but made no further comment. "Help me with the evidence, would you?"

You mumbled a 'fine' and sat down at his desk, grabbing a file or two from his hands.

You loved spending time with Sherlock but there was no denying that he could be a difficult man sometimes. Your favourite moments were the ones when he was considerate and kind. When he would come to your bookshop in the evenings and have dinner with you, or when he'd text you links to webpages that were selling vintage books that he knew you'd like. Those moments kept you close to him. Those moments had made you fall in love with him.

There were other moments too, however. When he would disregard your business entirely and need your full attention on one of his cases, or when he dismissed your feelings in favour of his own conveniences. It was those moments that had you softly crying to yourself in your bed at night.