Imagines and Preferences: Book 1

Preference: First Date | Sherlock

Summary: Your first date with the characters of Sherlock.

QOTP: What's your ideal first date?

Word Count: 1061

Jim -
Yesterday, you met fellow psychopath, Jim Moriarty. You've always admired his work, he's always admired yours. He was looking to hire you as an assassin; you're good at what you do.

However, when he found you, he couldn't help but stare at you. He quickly realized the meeting wasn't strictly business, at least not in his mind, and he asked you out. Surprising yourself, you said yes.

Now, you're putting on the fanciest dress you own and waiting for Jim to pick you up. You had no idea what you were doing, just that you were supposed to "wear something nice".

You're waiting on the pavement in front of your apartment when a sleek, black car pulls up. Immediately, the door is opened and Jim's half leaning out, smirking at you. You get in without a word.

You engage in easy small talk as the car is driven to an abandoned building. The driver opens your door and you get out, Jim taking your arm and leading you to the roof of the building. Fairy lights are hung, a table is set, and a waiter is standing off to the side, a cart of expensive foods next to him.

Jim flirts the entire night as you eat and you've blushed on more than one occasion. He's made sure it's perfect; he wants to impress you.

At the end of the night, Jim snaps his fingers and the waiter goes to get something for him. You look over at Jim, confused. He's smiling devilishly. "We haven't even gotten to the best part," he says as the waiter comes back with a sniper rifle. You smirk as he sets it up near the edge of the roof.

"After you," Jim says, following you to the gun. You lean and look through your sight for the target he describes. "I sent a message to a certain... person. Told them to be here. I figured you'd be pleased."

You find the target and don't hesitate in pulling the trigger.

It was the best first date you'd ever had.

John -
You met him at the grocery store; he couldn't reach something on the top shelf.

He seemed extremely nice. He was awkward, but in a cute way. When he asked for your number, you said yes. After a week of texting, he asked you to come to his flat for dinner. Sure, he could be a psychopathic murderer, but you highly doubted it, decided you wouldn't mind dying anyway, and showed up at 221B at six that Friday.

"Hello," he says, opening the door. He looks nice; he's wearing a jumper.

You smile. "Hi." He leads you up the stairs and to the lounge and tells you to sit while he finishes cooking.

"I'd just like to apologize in advance if my flatmate comes home early. He's... a bit eccentric," John says. You didn't think he could be that bad, but took John's word for it.

A few minutes later, you're sat down, talking and eating. It's nice and you're 99% percent sure he isn't going to kill you.

That's when you hear the door open.

By the look on John's face, you're starting to think he might actually be a killer. A man who's a lot taller than John walks into the kitchen and begins making tea. "Hello, John," he says, turning. "Oh, that must be your date. Hello. I can tell by the way your-"

"No. Nope. Sherlock, you are not going to do this," John interrupts. Sherlock's brows furrow like he's confused, but then he decides he doesn't care and plops down in a chair. For a moments it's silent, Sherlock sipping tea, John being exasperated, and you trying to hold back laughter.

"I gave you a case," John finally says.

With a cocky yet nonchalant air, Sherlock replies, "I solved it."

John sighs deeply, watching Sherlock sit in his chair, drinking his tea, not a care in the world. "Get out."

"And do what?" Sherlock asks incredulously.

"Go argue with Mycroft or something."

"No, I'm not in the mood. Sometimes he's just too infuriating."

"Then go bug Molly. I'm sure she'd love to spend time with you."

"But she has... feelings for me. Makes me feel icky."

"Icky? Seriously?"

"Yes."

John sighs again as you giggle. Hearing that, he gives you an apologetic look, then turns back to Sherlock. "Go annoy Lestrade. Or Anderson. Make fun of Donovan. Find Mori-"

Sherlock stands and throws on his coat. "Off to annoy Lestrdae!" he calls happily from the stairwell. You and John can't help but laugh.

"Now, where were we?"

Sherlock -
He seemed... odd when you first met him, you had to admit. But adorable nonetheless. So, when he asked for your number, you took a chance and said yes.

A week or so after periodically meeting up for unofficial coffee dates, he asked you out to dinner over text. Again, you said yes.

Now you were waiting for him to show up for your reservation. He wasn't late; you were a bit early. Actually, he showed up right on time.

A few minutes into the date and he still hadn't said anything. He was bouncing his leg nervously, scanning the menu. Finally, he looks up. "What's your favourite colour?"

"... Y/F/C. Why?"

"I, uh... I didn't know what else to ask you," he replies sheepishly. It's almost endearing. You don't reply, too busy absentmindedly staring; he's wearing a purple shirt that hugs his chest in all the right places.

If your favorite color wasn't purple before, it is now...

You're broken out of your trance by a phone ringing. Sherlock's.

He looks up at you apologetically. "I really have to take this."

"It's alright," you reply.

He gets up and goes to take his call and when he gets back it's like he's a changed man. Confident. A little bit... excited?

"How would you like to go visit a crime scene?" he asks, a small smirk on his lips before he puts on his coat. You don't know what it is - the prospect of a mystery, his new attitude that makes you even more attracted to him - but you say yes.

How many people can say their first date was a murder case?