BBC: Sherlock x Reader

Time and Then Some |Part Six|

Part I of the end.

Notes: Hey y'all! I hope you guys are having a good day! This one got a little surprise in it *wink wink* well, it's the second to last part of this miniseries, the next chapter is almost complete, so we'll see how that goes. Enjoy!

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Y/n tries to let her night continue on as normally as it could. With everything that happened yesterday and earlier. There were so many questions she wanted to ask William, that picture was definitely one of them. She has no idea why she didn't ask about it when she saw him, all her questions got pushed to the back of her mind.

She was hoping if she didn't ask, she could forget about it. She hated feeling like she was desperately clinging onto him, onto whatever it was they had. Which was barely anything if she's honest, she felt like she was sixteen again, having a summer fling that will evidently end in heartbreak. Nothing more than a temporary flame.

A few regulars came in, and they weren't much because it was Wednesday, the bar wouldn't actually be buzzing.

Y/n leans against the bar with a sigh, watching the polished wood, she props her chin on her palm. She didn't even bother to straighten up when Jones came out of the back room. Jones was the owner of the bar. He looked older than he was, with the crow's feet at the corner of his eyes and the graying hair at his temples, no one would ever guess he was only thirty-two.

He came out and leaned against the bar, watching around at the nearly empty room. He sighs, "It's really dead in here." he complains, chewing at the end of a wooden toothpick. He always seemed to have one and every once in a while Y/n had to remind him to spit it out because she always feared that he would accidentally swallow it laughing at something stupid.

He turns to face Y/n who had begun to wipe the bar counter down, "Hey Y/n.. why don't you stick your ass out the door and lure in some stragglers?" he says, taking the toothpick from his mouth to twirl it with his fingers.

"Jones." Y/n says laughs, shaking her head at him. "Call Sharon, you know she'd do anything to get back in your good graces "

Jones perks up at the name of his ex-wife, "Hey, maybe I should give her a call.." He laughs and points behind her at the dark bottle of scotch. Y/n pulls the bottle and a glass.

"Don't you keep a bottle of this in the back?"

"I've run out," he says and she rests them down on the counter in front of him. He pours the scotch into the glass, turning his back to her to watch the door.

"That's cause you drink too much." Y/n tuts, shaking her head. "Why do you even own a bar?"

"I lead a very stressful life." Jones defends, before pushing the bottle back her way. Y/n purses her lips and rolls her eyes, muttering under her breath. The door opens and Y/n looks up quickly, expecting it to be William, but it wasn't.

The man at the door stopped and looked around, Y/n could see the faint scowl on his face, like he didn't want to be there. He didn't even look like he belonged in a bar, with his sharp dark suit and tie and shiny black dress shoes. His eyes dart around for a moment more before settling on her, and a smile made its way onto his face. The action sends an involuntary shiver of unease down Y/n's spine and she found herself forcing a pleasant smile when he made his way over to the bar and sat down in front of her.

His dark brown eyes bore into hers and his tongue snaked out to wet his thin lips, "Hello there," he says, smiling still. And the longer that Y/n stared into his eyes, she realized how dead they were. One can usually tell how someone was feeling or what they're thinking through their eyes, but his? They were dead. Just a deal pool of dark brown, swirling around nothingness.