John Shelby Imagines

The Garrison

The air was immensely thick with black smoke and cinder as you strolled down the busy and hectic streets of Birmingham. It was Friday night which was widely known for being the locals' favorite night of the week due to the fact that Thomas Shelby allowed singing in his family-owned bar, The Garrison. This was shocking to most as Tommy didn't seem like one for a good time.

The buzzing sound of men and a collective group of women were heard singing bar tunes through the thick glass doors that stood in front of you once you finally arrived. As you walked inside you saw your best friend Grace who invited you to tonight's festivities. She was standing atop the bar's countertop providing the drunken and rowdy crowd with songs to sing. You threw your hand in the air waving it back and forth to attract her attention.

"Grace!" You shouted announcing your arrival.

Grace stopped singing but that didn't stop the pub's attendees from continuing the tune, "Y/N!" she yelled. She hopped down from the counter pushing through bodies to reach you at the front door, "I'm so glad you could make it! I've saved you a seat at the far end of the bar!" She took your hand without hesitation leading you towards the stool in which she had miraculously left vacant for you in the midst of all the madness. "Here sit!" Grace made her way around the bar swiftly. "What can I get you to drink?"

"Whiskey, please!" You say quite desperately as a line of sweat had broken out at the top of your hairline. You pulled out a pound to pay for the liquor.

"You're mad!" Grace cracked a smile, "It's on the house. Put that away!"

After such a long day of travel, the taste of whiskey made all your worries disappear. You drained the cup immediately wishing for another. "I'll take one more before I start singing!" You giggled as Grace poured you a second glass. 

It was much safer back at your home in London and the thought of traveling alone to a town riddled with vicious crime caused by one of England's most notorious gangs, The Peaky Blinders worried you but not enough to cancel your trip entirely. You weren't afraid of them but you certainly didn't want to see them whilst on your visit to see Grace.

"It's your pick!" Grace's voice yells fighting to meet your ears as the singing crowd's volume continues to rise within the small pub's walls.

"Pick what?" You yell back with your eyebrows furrowed.

"The next song o' course!" Grace smiles, "Hurry this song is nearly done!"

Your mind was spinning. You didn't know what to choose so you picked the first song that came to mind, "The Wild Rover!" You shouted, downing the second glass of whiskey Grace had so kindly poured for you.

"They're going to love it," Grace said as the voices in the pub started to mellow down. "Alright!" Grace shouted, grabbing every individual's attention, "The Wild Rover!"

The sea of bodies that filled the pub cheered loudly. You smiled before you felt your hand being yanked upwards. You were startled thinking it was possibly a drunken bloke looking for a dance, but to your utmost relief, it was just Grace urging you to sing with her on the countertop. You weren't one to be the center of attention but you didn't trek hours through the muddy back roads of England for nothing. You hopped up on the counter and waited for Grace to begin the song. The view was quite haunting as you truly hadn't realized how many people filled the pub.

"You start the tune, Y/N!" Grace stated with a toothy smile.

You seemed to have gained a sliver of confidence as there was no hesitation to begin the song. The herds of people were cheering from every corner of the room even before you started to sing a single note. There wasn't a drop of bad energy in the room.