Sherlock Imagines and Preferences

Very Projectile

Again, another idea of mine before I get back to working on the request list. I hope you all like this oneshot, I had fun writing it. Thank you so much for reading, voting and commenting ♥

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''You ready, (Y/N)?'' Sherlock called as he tied his scarf around his neck. 

''Almost!'' You shouted from the bathroom. You quickly fixed your hair in the mirror before hurrying back to Sherlock, who was waiting for you with your coat in his hands. You smiled at him and allowed him to help you put it on. 

He held your waist for a moment and pressed a kiss on your cheek before dragging you outside and into a cab. 

''So, what is today's case about?'' You asked, giving him your full attention. 

He smiled at you and wrapped his arm around your shoulder, pulling you into him and kissing your head. ''Another murder case Scotland Yard can't seem to solve... as usual.'' 

You giggled and cosied up against him, his thick coat providing warmth during the cold London winter. 

''We need to buy you a better coat, Love,'' He pointed out. 

''Nah, I'm good. This is my excuse to stay close to you.'' You grinned up at him. 

He playfully rolled his eyes, a smile tugging at his lips. ''Have it your way then, but don't blame me when you get ill.''

After a short drive, you both arrived at the crime scene. You paid the fee as always and followed Sherlock to the body as soon as the cab sped off. His arm instantly wrapped around your waist, showing everyone (especially Anderson) that you belonged to him. 

As usual, when he did this, a faint blush coated your cheeks and you subconsciously leant into him. You absolutely loved it when he was affectionate in public and perhaps a little possessive, it made you feel special and Sherlock knew that and gladly used it to his advantage. 

An evident smirk was on his face as you two made your way to Lestrade, who was bent over a body, clearly trying to take as many helpful notes as he could. 

''No need for your opinion, Gavin. We got this,'' Sherlock announced cockily, shoving Anderson, who was in the way, aside and far away from you. You snickered at his confused expression, but didn't say anything and let Sherlock do the thing he did best; deduce. 

''Victim is in his late twenties, married with two children. Nothing particularly special about him. An ordinary job at a local company, happy family and a polished appearance to the outside world,'' He listed out loud. His grip on you tightened slightly as his eyes narrowed, scanning the body in an attempt to figure out what happened. His lips pressed a quick kiss to your head before he let go of you to inspect the body more closely. 

As he crouched down next to the victim, using his small magnifying glass to look for clues, you sauntered off, deciding to take a closer look at the surroundings. It seemed like a weird place to drop off a body, it was in the middle of the city and everyone could've seen the killer execute their plan. 

You hummed to yourself as you walked around the building. More questions popped up in your head as you took a good look at everything. There were spatters of blood on the outside white walls of the bank building, it was like someone generously decorated the place with red dye. 

You could deduce from the blood that the bullet wound in the victim's head hadn't been the cause of death, the spatters would've been in one place at about 180 centimetres high, the height of the victim. But that wasn't the case. No, the blood spatters were spread widely on the outside wall and went as high as roughly two meters.