Sherlock One shots and Imagines

The Knave of Hearts - Part 5 - Sherlock x John x Reader

(Y/n) and Bess made their way around the market. The locals doffing their caps, as the two women moved through the stalls. They had been to see Bess' father before they had made their way into the center of the town. The old blacksmith had been ill for the past week, and (Y/n)'s father had ensured that the local doctor had been making regular visits. The old man now happily sitting up in his bed and demanding to know when he could get back to his shop. The doctor and Bess assuring the blacksmith that it would be soon. Yet (Y/n) hadn't heard any of the conversation, the lady instead looking out of the small windows of the cottage; her thoughts wandering to the men that she had met a short time earlier, in her father's study.

As Bess had noted, Doctor Watson was indeed handsome, with a stylish moustache and kind eyes. There was something reassuring about the man. An air that was not only strong, but gentle. The lady sure that the doctor's bedside manner must be quite calming. (Y/n) not blaming the blacksmith's daughter for finding him pleasing. But she...........she couldn't get her thoughts away from the rather rude Sherlock Holmes.

He was handsome, there was no denying that, his features angular, sharp, yet still very pleasing. And his eyes........his eyes were quite captivating. Holding her gaze until Bess had coughed from behind her. William Shakespeare had once written that the eyes were the window to the soul, and despite himself, Sherlock's eyes were no different. And even though it seemed obvious that the consulting detective could physically hide, could control all his other emotions, he could not control his eyes so easily. It was true to say that they were cold, seemed unfeeling, yet there was something, something deep down in the blackness of his pupils that said there was something more. Something that she couldn't help but be drawn to. Something she hoped to further explore while he and the doctor were at Royston House.

While they were at Royston House.............why were they at Royston House? She knew that there was something going on. With the greatest respect to both men, they would not have been the first pair that she would have thought to invite to the masquerade ball that her father was holding for her. The consulting detective, just like his brother, not seeming the sort that would enjoy such frivolity. So, why had her father, invited the detective and his friend? (Y/n) putting it down to something that her father wasn't telling her. That perhaps he feared for her safety once again. That perhaps he, for once, didn't trust Caine and his preparations; the lady hoping that her father had finally seen sense as far as his head of security was concerned. And if this were true, then who better to have keeping an eye on her, than the great detective. Who better to help her father see that Caine was a no-good scoundrel, that would sell his own mother for the right amount of money. The lady sure that Sherlock had already deduced that himself. So, as her father wouldn't listen to her, maybe he would listen to the famous Holmes.

Suddenly, as she continued to find herself lost in her thoughts, her eyes caught something; a movement on the quiet lane outside, that didn't look quiet right. The breath catching in her throat, as she saw a man. A man...........just stood there, smiling broadly as he looked at the small cottage. Smiling as if he could see her. A sick feeling turning her stomach, as a sense of familiarity washed over her. She was sure that she recognised him. Despite the fact that he was dressed as though he had just been working in the fields, it was obvious that the man had never done a day's work in the open, in his life; his skin far to pale and smooth to have ever spent too much time in the sun. (Y/n) nearly jumping out of her skin as Bess had laid her hand on her shoulder.

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"(Y/n).........look at this.............." Bess called out. The lady making her way to where her friend was cooing over a puppy. (Y/n) letting out a little chuckle, as the tiny creature jumped up and got mud all over Bess' skirts.

(Y/n) had been doing her best to get her mind off the figure that she had seen beyond the window; off the dark-haired man that she felt had been watching her. A gasp leaving her lips, as she looked up and saw him again. Her heart pounding in her chest, as he smiled again. His dark eyes looking right into hers.

"(Y/n)............? Are you alright............?" Bess asked, as she got to her feet. The daughter of the blacksmith concerned by the look on her friend's face. Concerned that the blood seemed to have drained from her visage.

"That man............." (Y/n) managed to reply, as she pointed in the direction of where he was stood. Bess following the lady's finger.

"That's just Jethro.........you know Jethro................"

"Not him! The other man..........the man with the black hair............." (Y/n) replied, quickly turning to look at her friend before turning back to see that the man seemed to have vanished as quickly as he had appeared. The lady feeling as though she couldn't breathe for a moment. Bess quickly taking her arm, as it looked like (Y/n) was about to fall.

"(Y/n)! What is it...................?"

"It...............its nothing...............I thought..........I thought I saw someone..........." (Y/n) replied, as she looked between her dearest friend and the spot where the man had been stood. The lady not sure whether he was real, or she had just imagined him.

"I think perhaps I am a little tired, Bess dear. It's been a long day, what with all the organisation for the ball, and the excitement of meeting Mister Holmes and Doctor Watson. I believe that I would like to go back to the house now............" The lady explained. Bess nodding in agreement, as she took her friend's arm and escorted her back to the waiting carriage.