Imagines : SHERLOCK

Imagine an unexpected encounter with Sherlock

Imagine an unexpected encounter with Sherlock

You were stuck late working at the office again, and yet again you were the only one there. You sat at your desk and sighed at the pile of paperwork that was still there. You'd been told by your boss to get rid of the important newspaper article you had been writing as apparently he said it was too dangerous for you. All you had done was write a little 100 word article about the consulting criminal Moriarty, but you'd agreed to delete it, but not before you had printed off a secret copy for yourself. Somehow, whatever you had written, must mean something. Picking up your jacket you head to the lift, and hit the button to go to the ground floor. However, the elevator opened up at the basement, then all the lights went off. You cautiously step out of the lift, looking around. It was pitch black and impossible to see anything. You look around the maze of incredibly tall bookcases, trying to find another way out. "Hello Y/N", a manly voice says behind you quietly. You immediately turn around to try and see them, and scream out in surprise, but they push you up against the bookcase, their gloved hand clapped over your mouth. "Don't move", they whisper to you, as you look at them terrified, trying to make them out in the dark. You nod your head, and they reach into your pocket and pull out the article that you'd wrote, and put it deep into their pocket. Then the lights come on, blinding you, and the other person. You see an opportunity to try and run, but they grab hold of your arm and push you back into the wall. "What part of don't move don't you understand? I am not speaking clearly enough for you to get it into your head!", the whispered urgently to you, keeping their voice low and serious. And that's when you saw him clearly. The curly black hair, the thick trench coat, the sharp cheekbones you could cut yourself on. It was Sherlock, the great consulting detective you'd seen on the TV. "Your-". "Shh", he said, putting a finger on your lips, turning his head, glancing around. After several minutes of him looking around, you gently tap him on the shoulder. "Oh, sorry", he whispers, removing his finger. "Thank you. I think", you whisper back quietly, watching him as he continues to look around, as if trying to find something. "Are you looking for something?", you ask him quietly. "No, someone", he says walking away from you, peering around the corner of the bookcase down the next row. "What do you mean someone? There's no one else here", you say a bit puzzled. "Wrong. Correction. There is someone here, three people in fact. That being myself, you and the assassin", he whispers hurriedly, moving to the other end of the row, peeking around. "Wait, and assassin!", you say scared, probably louder than you should have, as you here a noise over your shoulder, causing you to turn around. "Yes, the assassin that followed you to work this afternoon and has been hiding in the disabled toilet in the ground floor, judging by the smell off his clothes. He killed the security guard and stole his keys so he could open the basement level, which explains the blood footprint stain on the stairs and the soft jingling of keys in his right trouser pocket. He then waiting until he knew you would be finishing work to take control of the lift, and send you down to here, where he would knock off the lights, strangle you in the dark, and then leave your body here buried underneath the toppled bookcases, making it look like your death had been an accident. All this for one little article!". He said this all extremely quickly whilst running back and too between the aisles, hardly pausing for breath, disappearing off. "So your saying there is a man here to kill me!", you shout alarmed to him as you look in the direction Sherlock disappear in. "Yes. Didn't I make that obvious", he shouts from afar, somewhere over in the distance from behind a bookcase. "So then where is he?", you shout to him. You feel a cold hand tighten around your neck from behind you, choking you, as a deadly voice whispers in your ear, "Right behind you". You try to call out to Sherlock for help but you can't breath, and already your vision is starting to fade to black. You try to grab hold of him to let go, but he chuckles at your efforts. Just when you think your about to breath your last, a deafening gunshot cracks past your ear, and the hand holding you let's go, as you collapse to the floor panting. You look at your masked attacker, and see a gunshot wound in the centre of his head. You turn around and see Sherlock standing there, a gun at his side. "Oh, you found him before me. That hardly seems fair", he says disappointed. He helps you up, and you immediately hold onto him tightly in a hug. "Don't you ever do that again!", you cry at him. "Don't worry Y/N, I won't."