BBC: Sherlock x Reader

Time and Then Some |Part Six|

"What can I get you?" Y/n asks, wiping her palms on the material of her jeans, hoping to stop them from sweating. She had no idea why she was feeling so uneasy, this man -- whoever he was -- gave off a serious bad vibe. It sent up red flags in her mind, and Y/n could do nothing more than hope that he'd order his drink and leave soon.

"Just a whiskey, mouse." He says looking away to glance at his watch, he had a slight Irish drawl to his words. He hums lightly, gazing at her with a strange look in his eyes. Y/n got him his whiskey and set it down in front of him. "Thank you,"

Y/n shoots Jones a look and he shrugs before going to the front of the bar, cleaning up the tables and picking up the empty bottles. As much as she appreciated the help, he was leaving her to face this man alone. Y/n sighs again and walks over to the stool in the corner to sit, painfully aware of the man's eyes following her.

Of course, this isn't something strange, men had flirted with her before. It is something she got used to, but he's being too quiet, he's just staring. Other men would be trying to make small talk to tickle her fancy or get her to notice them. Y/n checks her watch, thankfully it was close to closing time, she couldn't wait to go home and relax.

"I can see why he is so fond of you," he says, staring at her still. A faint smirk on his lips and mischief in his eyes. He seemed like he was up to something, but Y/n didn't know what.

"Excuse me?" Y/n blinks, not sure she heard the man correctly. He smiles and looks down to his drink, chuckling.

"William..." He answers, looking at the shelves of alcohol in front of him before he shrugs, "Well I know him under a different alias. We're quite close. You can almost say we're brothers..."

Y/n furrows her eyebrows, what in the world is this man on about? She watches him closely, there's no way he could even be drunk, he didn't even sip at his drink. He seemed fine when he walked in the pub...maybe he had some screws loose.

But how does he know about her and William?

He chuckles darkly, taking his first drink of the whiskey. He shakes his head, "You're probably wondering what I'm going on about." He says, smirking, Y/n stares at him, feeling beyond creeped; it was like he read her mind.

"I'll tell you all about it, if you'll let me..." He hums, taking another sip of the whiskey.

"Tell me what?" Y/n asks, now curious, she sits up straight on the stool.

She watched as the man's fingers tapped against the wood of the bar counter, he bit his bottom lip and his eyes drifted back to the bottles on the shelves. "Oh, I don't know if I should. Might ruin things a bit," he says with a grimace and a roll of his shoulders in a half shrug.

Y/n narrows her eyes at the man, then why the hell did he bring it up? she thought as she folded her arms. "What do you mean ruin things? What are you talking about?" she pressed. Now she actually wanted to know, even though it wasn't her safest bet listening to some randomer in a pub.

He was probably some creep who's been stalking her and William for the past month and was just trying to get something out of it. But something in the back of her mind told her that was definitely not the case, that she should give this man the benefit of the doubt and listen to whatever crazy story he has.

Maybe she was just curious, maybe because in the back of her mind she just knew that something wasn't right with William. She didn't know what it was but... she just had a really stupid feeling.

"I mean this is a huge thing, that could definitely destroy what you two got going on. That cozy little fairytale of a 'relationship'." He says, making air quotes with his fingers, looking at her. Well, she wouldn't really call what they had a relationship -- not the kind she knew he was talking about -- they hadn't even gone out for dinner... what even were they? 

He smirks, "But you really want to know don't you?"

Y/n looks down at her hands, does she really want to know? The man just said that it could ruin everything, is she actually willing to risk that? She looks back at the man and he raises an eyebrow as if asking, well? And Y/n nods, against her better judgment, "Tell me."

The man smirks, "Well, before we start, I'm James,"

After he introduced himself, James said that it would best that they talked without the risk of prying ears. So he left with a promise that he would be back when it was time to close up the pub, which couldn't be more than fifteen minutes after.

Jones left a bit before closing, which left Y/n alone to the bar. She was just picking up the used glasses from the booths around the bar when there was a knock on the closed door. Y/n walks to open the door and James was standing outside, a sly smirk on his thin lips. He walks in and looks around, "Well this is cozy isn't it?" he says, eyebrow raised.

Y/n crosses her arms over her chest, "What is it you wanted to tell me?" she asks. James chuckles and sits down in the booth nearest to her. All she wanted was to hear what he had to say, and then decide if she should believe him or not.

He smirks, something flashing in the depths of his brown eyes as he dips his hand into the pocket of his jacket, and Y/n took a step back, which made him chuckle. "I'm not going to hurt you mouse," he supplied, and he pulls what looked like a folded photograph and held it out to her. She eyed it and he waved it lightly, "Now, I don't have all night."

Y/n takes the photo from him and unfolds it. She looks at it, and her eyebrows furrow; it was old, very old, the edges were curling in on themselves, and there were black smudges on it, almost obscuring the person. The person, stood holding a violin under his chin, looking quite displeased with the person who took the picture. There was no mistaking it, it was that Sherlock bloke, the one in the painting at the museum. "I don't understand..." Y/n says looking up at him.

"Of course you don't," he smiles and Y/n narrows her eyes at him, he did not seriously make her wait here for this crap. "Your human mind couldn't begin to understand."

"I'm sorry?" Y/n blanched, okay, maybe this guy is off his head. "What?"

"Yes." His eyes darkened, and he gave a wide smile, and it was then Y/n spotted them. Glinting in the dull light of the pub, are those...?

Y/n stumbled backward when he stood up quickly and advanced on her, knocking back the chair that landed with a crash, he wrapped a cold hand around her neck in a bruising grip. Y/n struggles against him, trying to pry his hand off of her neck before he managed to crush her windpipe. She kicked and scratched at him, but all he did was chuckle and back her up to a wall.

"Shh," He shushed her, putting a finger to his lips with an evil smirk. "This would be a lot better if you'd stop struggling," Y/n grunted and kicked her legs and scratch at his hand again, she could feel her fingers cut into his skin but he didn't even flinch. His grip on her neck tightens and he bared his teeth, with eyes wide, Y/n couldn't look away. "Your heartbeat is so erratic... I could dance to it." he made a show of running his tongue over his elongated canines.

The edges of Y/n's vision were tinted black, and she could feel her fingers going numb. James was smiling, maybe even laughing, but she could barely hear, she felt as though her ears were flooded with water. Then suddenly, her lungs were filled with air, Y/n crumples to the floor, forcing oxygen into her body as she gasped and coughed.

She puts a hand to her tender throat and looked up at the man with tear-filled eyes, her heart pounding a mile a minute. He looked down at her, tilting his head as though he was confused before he came down on his hunches and sighs, he lifted his hand to her cheek and brushes back some of her hair. Y/n, too frightened to move, stayed stock still.

"This is what happens when you line yourself with the wrong sorts of people." He says, clicking his tongue against his teeth in a disappointed manner. "Especially people like Sherlock Holmes."

"I don't know what you're talking about." Y/n says, and her throat burned. She pulls away from him and presses her back against the wall, "I don't know anyone by that name."

"Yes you do," He says softly, "William Sherlock Scott Holmes." with that, he gets up and walks to the door. "If you want to stay alive, and keep your family safe, I suggest you end whatever you two have and pretend he never existed."