His Great Game (Sherlock x Reader)

Chapter 1: A Chance Coffee

(Your POV)

I stepped out of the library, breathing in the evening air. A soft breeze brushed through my (h/c) hair, then disappeared as quickly as it had come. It was late July, and not a cloud littered the sky as the sun painted golden hues across the streets and buildings. Here in London, the sun didn't set until about 9:00 this time of year- much later than I'm used to. I sighed. I knew it would take me a while to adjust to living here after moving from the States, but I thought a week would do it. Apparently, I was wrong.

I savored the sights and sounds of the busy city for a few more moments before slinging my bag over my shoulder heading to the road, trying to hail a cab. I stood there for several minutes, but with no luck. There wasn't a taxi in sight. I furrowed my brows in confusion. Strange. Either I'm really bad at this whole 'UK' thing or I'm just out of luck. I sighed, quickly deciding that my best course of action would be to walk.

I set off down the sidewalk at a brisk pace, head held high. One look at what I was wearing would signify me as a foreigner, but I didn't mind. While the London natives simply wore jeans and a t-shirt, I wore leather boots and a Cambridge University pullover hoodie. To me, 16.5 degrees Celsius was chilly. I guess living in the States does that to you. I stuffed my hands into my hoodie, attempting to keep warm. People crowded the sidewalk, all bustling off to some place or another. I made the mistake of glancing to the side for just a moment and full-on collided with a man.

I stumbled backward for a moment before falling onto my rear. I groaned, one hand on the ground holding me up and the other on my head, eyes shut tight, trying to hide my embarrassment.

"Oh God. Oh God, I'm so sorry." I looked up to see the man crouched in front of me, staring at me with worried brown eyes. One hand clutched a steaming coffee and the other was raking nervously through his hair. "I'm so sorry, are you alright? Are you hurt?" I opened my mouth to reassure him, but he kept talking, cutting me off. "No of course you're not. Here, let me help you up." He offered me his free hand and gently helped me to my feet. "There we go."

I gave him a sheepish smile. "Thank you." Now that I was standing, I got a proper look at the mystery man. He was a little shorter than your average guy- 5 foot 8- and was obviously muscular despite his slim build. Everyone had their secret talents- mine just happens to be knowing exactly how tall people are just by looking at them. He had a mess of dark brown hair and captivating brown eyes just a touch lighter. He wore a grey, button-down tee, jeans, and a leather jacket with black leather shoes to match. He had a bit of scruff on his cheeks, adding to the worn-down, casual look. Honestly, he was pretty cute. Sexy, even. But I pushed those thoughts from my mind after realizing that there was probably quite an age difference between us. Early thirties, maybe?

"I really am sorry." He replied, returning the shy smile and snapping me out of my thoughts. I mentally chided myself for staring. Wait. I cocked my head in surprise, my shy smile becoming genuine. Now that I was thinking straight, I recognized his accent.

"You're Irish! Not from around here then?" I asked enthusiastically, stepping to the inside of the sidewalk so I wasn't in the path of everyone rushing by. He stepped with me, successfully moving the both of us out of harm's way. The last thing I needed right now was to get knocked over. Again.

"Nah." He said, chuckling. Dang, I thought, even his laugh is sexy. He closed some of the space between us, still keeping a respectable distance. However, he was close enough for me to get a whiff of his cologne. Smells good, too.

"Just visiting." He gave me a once-over before continuing. "I take it you aren't from around here, either, darling?"

I raised my eyebrows at the affectionate term. I brushed it off, shaking my head in amusement. "What gave it away?"

"Besides the fact that you're cold in this warm weather?" he chuckled again. "Mainly the accent. Definitely American." He locked eyes with me and I held his gaze until I felt my cheeks growing warmer as a blush started to spread across them. I looked down quickly, shoving my hands into the pockets of my hoodie and smiling. I risked a glance upward and saw him smiling at the ground as well, the same pink on his cheeks.

"So um..." he began tentatively, looking up to meet my gaze once again. "Do you have a name? I mean of course you have a name, but..."

I couldn't help but laugh. He was so awkward, it was adorable. "(Y/n)."

"(Y/n)?" He repeated, grinning. "That's beautiful." I felt my face growing pinker by the second. I opened my mouth to thank him, but he cut me off with a startled exclamation. "Oh my God! Where are my manners? You must be cold, here." He practically shoved his coffee into my hands. I stood there holding the coffee, flattered, but a little taken aback. My hands began to warm up immediately. He straightened his jacket and nodded his head, satisfied.

"Well, it was nice meeting you, (y/n). Perhaps we'll run into each other again, darling," he finished with a wink. He turned abruptly and started walking in the direction he had been headed before our collision.

"Yeah..." I mumbled to myself, still a bit flustered. My eyes widened and I shook my head, trying to clear my mind. I turned in the direction the man had gone. "Hey, wait!"

He turned immediately, as if he had been anticipating my call. "Yes?"

"I never got your name." I practically yelled, my voice carrying above the crowd to where he stood.

He smiled and started to walk backwards. "James." He then turned and continued on his way.

I grinned and looked down at the coffee he had graciously gifted me. Irish and polite. Not to mention good-looking. I turned the coffee in my hands, noticing for the first time the phone number written on the foam in black ink. "That sly bastard," I chuckled to myself. I took a sip of the coffee, sighing at how warm it was in contrast to how cold I felt. I would definitely be texting that number later. 

I checked the time, glancing at my watch. 9:37. The sky had darkened considerably since I had left the library. I smiled, looking up at the stars. Missing a cab earlier didn't seem so unlucky, now. "I owe you one, James." Setting off down the sidewalk with my coffee in hand, I headed for my flat.