No Strings Attached: Doctor Strange x GN Reader (Marvel and Sherlock Crossover)

Chapter Nine: Breitling

You changed into your dark green shirt you had found with Mary, wearing the black blazer on top, pairing the outfit with a pair of black dress shoes, and a gold watch given to you by Lestrade a few years back, in congratulations for solving a rather large case.

Giving one last glance to the mirror on top of your dresser, you nodded in approval at yourself, successfully pulling off an upper-class look, that was definitely needed tonight.

Stepping out of your bedroom and into the hallway that led to the living room of 221B, you glanced at Sherlock's room, noticing the door was open and walked down the ball to see him in the kitchen, messing with viles of chemicals.

"That's a very bad idea," you passed by him, careful not to bump into him, fetching a glass from the cabinet and going to the sink to fill it up.

"No it's not," Sherlock snarked, focusing on pouring a concentrated amount into another vile.

You laughed before taking a sip of your water, "Don't remember the sophomore-year incident at university?"

Sherlock turned around immediately, careful not to drop the vile, giving you an are-you-serious look, you shrugged in response, "Your fault not mine." (My own personal version of Budapest <3)

He rolled his eyes, going back to the experiment, not seeming to care about damaging the expensive suit he was wearing in preparation for tonight.

"I'm leaving," you told him, standing at the door.

"Then, go," Sherlock muttered back as you sighed and walked out, walking halfway down the stairs before counting to three, the flat door opening exactly on time.

Sherlock stomped past you, mumbling something along the lines of prick.

After telling Mrs. Hudson goodbye, you walked up, revealing that Sherlock had already called over a cab to take you to the club. He held open the door as you scooted to the side, Sherlock gracefully getting in and telling the driver the address.

Plugging in your earbuds, you played some music you rather enjoyed, not the classical stuff like Sherlock had, but stuff that they might play at the club, trying to get yourself in the mood.

Sherlock went into his mind palace as you just tried to relax before the high adrenaline of the case kicked in.

Bopping your head you lip-synced to the music not noticing Sherlock's smirk until you accidentally turned towards him, that bastard. He knew he had tricked you.

"Fuck you, William," Sherlock huffed, rolling his eyes like the drama king he was.

The cab pulled to a stop after a few minutes, parking in the street in front of a black brick building, identifiable only by the symbol of the club in dark red paint. You paid the driver with the money Lestrade had given you before stepping out beside Sherlock who was staring at the building.

You took in a deep breath, taking Sherlock's hand in yours.

"Together," you whispered.

Sherlock nodded, walking towards the front door of the club, "Together."

Sherlock seemed to put a mask on, immediately walking with a much lighter gait, and with a much more friendly smile on his face.

"Remeber your alias?" He asked.

"Y/N Moran, and your William Moran. Married for three years, together for six. I run a company dealing with lab equipment and you're a musician, specializing in violin." You shot a teasing grin at Sherlock, "William was my idea."

"Lovely," Sherlock knocked on the door, both of you waiting for what seemed like a minute before it opened a bit.

An older gentleman looked over the two of you, "Names?"

"Y/N Moran and William Moran," you told him, taking on the role of being the more communicative one in the relationship, fitting with your alias. "We just joined," you smiled overexaggeratedly.

He eyed you wearily, before looking down at a clipboard he was holding, humming when he saw your names and shutting the door before you heard a click from the other side.

"Welcome," he huffed as he opened the door, stepping to the side, as you and Sherlock nodded in thanks and walked into the club.

It was a dark hallway, illuminated by red lights giving off a romantic yet dangerous aura.

"Really fits the name," you mumbled under your breath as Sherlock looked around, observing the area.

"Remember," you started before Sherlock interrupted you, holding open the door at the end of the hallway.

"Anything suspicious, I know. I'm a Holmes, do you really think I'm that dull?"

You pushed him a little bit, causing him to stumble, "I don't think your dull, just a little stupid at times. John agrees."

Sherlock stopped, glaring at you, "You've talked about how stupid I am?"

"Of course, can't blame us when you shoot up the flat every other day." Rolling your eyes and gripping his hand trying to pull him through the doorway.

"That's not stupid," Sherlock tried to argue, not bothered to move.

"No, it is." You told him, smirking at his annoyance, "What was especially stupid was stealing John's jumper even if it was for an experiment, I don't blame him for threatening to shoot you, you're lucky Mary stopped him, because I sure wouldn't."

"Such a wonderful friend," Sherlock muttered, finally walking through the doorway.

The both of you stood in silence, taking in the club.

It was surprisingly ordinary. Music blared throughout the large room, loud enough to where you could feel the vibrations. People danced, not in normal clubbing clothes, fancier, seeming to give off the vibe to anyone of I'm rich, men dressed in suits, while most of the women wore dazzling dresses.

"We should interview the bartenders first," Sherlock told you, holding out his arm for you to link your own through and walking you towards the fancy bar, with countless priceless alcohols lining the wall, "Let's see if they are regular or if they change out. If they're regular we might be able to get one to cooperate with us."

Sherlock pulled out a seat for you at the bar, placing a kiss on your cheek before you sat down. Ignoring the music and dancing people surrounding you, you made eye contact with a bartender, who walked over your way, "You knew here?"

"Yes," you answered, placing down a hundred-dollar bill and making his eyes light up, "Whiskey on the rocks please."

"I'll have white wine, please," Sherlock told him, the man nodded, walking off and beginning to pour your drinks.

"Thank you," you told the man after he set the drinks down in front of you, "Will we be seeing you again?"

He nodded, sticking out his hand, clad in expensive rings and a silver Breitling watch, "Adrian."

"Y/N," you smiled, shaking his hand firmly before he offered it to Sherlock, "And my husband, William."

Adrian smiled before walking off to serve another couple at the far end of the bar, you turned to Sherlock who had also caught it, "Why does a bartender have an almost 10,000 quid watch?"