Doctor Strange Imagines

(#33) I'll have another drink

Summary: Stephen and Mordo go to a bar to get a drink, meeting a girl that stood out from everyone.

Request: Someone did request it but I can't find who did. Please do tell me to tag you in the chapter.

A/N: Hope you enjoy the chapter :3

-Purple Trekkie 

"You could use a drink every now and then Mordo" Stephen commented as he pushed open the door leading to a bar, getting immediately hit by quite peculiar but recognizable scents.

Alcohol (obviously), drugs, sweat and what he could catch on with maybe a hundred gallons of intoxicating perfume. He still didn't quite get women's need to use so much perfume. They could perfectly get a date with just your own personality, or so he thought so.

The mixture of smells wasn't pleasant but he was already used to it. Mordo though, was busy trying not to faint from how overwhelmed he was. Clutching on to his stomach, he slid on the stool next to Strange, scrunching up his nose as he tried all in his willpower not to vomit his lunch.

"Jesus Sherlock, why do you have to bring me to the worst places. You don't usually drink." Mordo Watson ran a hand through his blonde hair. Stephen Holmes placed his hands under his chin in praying position. 

"Elementary my dear Watson." Sherlock pulled off his scarf, getting his magnifying glass out to narrow all the six possible ideas he had in mind about the case.

"If you dare to take me here in my birthday you pompous bastard, I swear I will-"

Wait... That's not right. 

Oops my bad hehe. Sorry Stephen and Mordo, I mixed up a bit. *Pushes them in dresser room, everyone in the bar that was drinking relaxing as the director called a cut*

"Okay everyone! Good call! Everyone make sure to act natural for this scene okay? (Y/N), focus on lowering your gaze okay. God dammit Benedict just take that coat off and dress up as Stephen Strange!"

The author rubbed her temples in irritation and waited for both of them to walk out. "Sorry Martin, you are in the wrong set, I'll call you when I finally get my arse working on the new Sherlock fanfic I promised ages ago. No problem bud."

The author sipped from her coffee and discretely checked out Benedict as he proceeded to take his shirt off behind the dressing pannel.

"Um excuse me author *Name beeped out for reasons* We can't afford to take longer. BBC is sending another series in recording at ten Pm."

Author nodded and sighed. "I know. I know. The guy with with the crazy hair and the blue box that disappears and appears there. Just get your arse working before I throw you to a lava pit. Also, tell Benedict he has to be early in set tomorrow for the recording of certain dragon together with Martin. OKAY EVERYONE. Get in positions! Recording in THREE, TWO, ONE."

Author looks at the camera before saying action. "Sorry readers! Pretend you didn't see anything of what happened now. ACTION!"

***

The Sorcerer Supreme took a sip of his whiskey, closing his eyes as he relished the strong taste of the alcoholic beverage. Mordo had barely touched his as he was fidgeting with his ring. His gaze was distant, almost as if remembering something.

But Stephen realized his gaze wasn't really lost. He was staring directly at a woman, maybe around their age. She was wearing a smooth lavander dress that reached her knees, accentuating her figure in the right places. The suitcase situated besides her told him she had just gotten off work.