Sherlock Imagines and Preferences

Dinner? Starving

Requested by Sherlock_Holmes- and the_Writing_Bear 

~***~

Sherlock wandered around the endless halls of his Mind Palace, looking for something that could relieve him of his boredom. It seemed like the halls and rooms would never end. The consulting detective ran his hand through his hair out of frustration. There were no unsolved cases in his Mind Palace that he could solve. London seemed to be free of violent crimes these days and Sherlock couldn't do anything but whine about it. He was desperate for some mental stimulation, but no one could offer it to him. He contemplated learning about space in order to talk to John about it, but that was so boring and just a waste of valuable space. No, he wouldn't stuff his mind with all that useless information. The only thing that mattered to Sherlock was the thrill of a case and the art of deduction. That was all the detective would ever need.

The sound of a phone ringing pulled Sherlock out of his trance like state. He groaned and let his body roll off the couch, landing on the floor with a soft thud. The detective miserably groaned again before scrambling off the floor in order to find his phone. The bright light of the screen caught his gaze and he picked it up. The detective rolled his eyes when he saw the text message he'd received.

Dinner?

- IA

Sherlock threw his phone back on the table and fell down in his chair. He stared at the red one in front of him and sighed. It wasn't like he hated Irene Adler, not at all. He was just confused whenever she was around him. Something about her made it impossible for him to think straight and he hated not being able to think clearly. To Sherlock, his mind was superior and he counted on it. But when Irene spoke to him, touched him or simply when he saw her, his mind would shut down and he forgot how to make rational decisions. A part of him loved that feeling, he didn't know how or why, but he secretly enjoyed that feeling sometimes. When he was around her, he didn't have to think. He wouldn't overthink stuff and it made him feel free. But another part of him also hated that feeling because it gave him too much freedom. He didn't want to be vulnerable and make the wrong decisions, he needed to be the smart sociopath he claimed to be, but that was simply impossible around her! She was so intoxicating. Sherlock's eyes drifted back to his phone. The text message was still visible on the screen. He bit his lip and in a whim, he jumped up and responded to her text.

Starving.

- SH

Irene responded within thirty seconds, texting him the address of a restaurant close to Baker Street. Sherlock grabbed his coat and scarf and put them on. He stood in front of the mirror, fixing his hair and adjusting his scarf. He smirked and checked his hair one final time before heading out to the restaurant. During the cab ride, he kept fiddling with his phone, checking if he had received any new text messages. He had never been so nervous in his life. He wanted to impress Irene, like she impressed him. He couldn't admit that though. The tough and cold exterior he worked so hard on to achieve would be nothing. She would be able to see straight through his emotionless and uninterested facial expressions if she knew. And that couldn't happen. The cab stopped and Sherlock got out after paying him the money he owed.

''Sherlock Holmes.'' Irene greeted, smirking as she checked him out. ''You finally replied to my texts. I feel flattered.'' Sherlock followed her inside and they sat down at the table together. ''Don't be. I was just bored.'' He stated, keeping his emotions in check. Irene kept the smirk on her face as she leant forward. ''I could help you with that.'' She whispered seductively. Sherlock felt his cheeks heat up but managed to hide it well enough to blame it on the hot temperature inside. ''I thought we were here for dinner.'' He pointed out. Irene sat back in her chair and shrugged. ''Fine. We'll be boring and just have dinner.'' She agreed. ''Thank you.'' Sherlock nodded. The waiter came to their table and took their orders, writing them down in his small notebook. It wasn't crowded in the restaurant so the waiter soon returned with their dinner and a bottle of wine.

Irene ate as Sherlock kept staring at her. It just started out as him trying to deduce her, but he simply couldn't look away. He was mesmerised by her. She wasn't like other people, she was an enigma. An enigma that he had attempted and always failed to solve. That intrigued him more than anything. He wanted to solve the mystery that enveloped her and he was sure that one day he'd be able to see the true woman behind the mask of stone she wore.

''I thought you were starving?'' Irene pointed out. ''Very much so.'' He replied monotonously. Irene rolled her eyes, but she was secretly amused by the attention she was getting from the self-proclaimed sociopath. She shoved his plate closer to him and winked. For the first time since he entered the restaurant, he smiled. A genuine and amused smile. He finally allowed himself to have some fun and just enjoy his evening. Letting his mind relax, he began to eat as well. The rest of the night went by smoothly and by the end of it, Sherlock finally realised what he had been feeling all along.