Imagines and Preferences: Book 1

Preference: First Thoughts | Sherlock

Requested by singtothesky_ she's gr8 I love her that's all okay thanks

Also you and your friend in John's are basically me and DJ_Tatortot tbh

Summary: His first thoughts upon meeting you.

QOTP: What were your first thoughts upon watching Sherlock for the first time?

Word Count: 1125

Jim - "She's an idiot... but her smile..."
Jim groans, feeling the blast of cold air hit him as he walks into the store. He's doing the dreaded chore of grocery shopping; he ran out of toaster strudel, eggs, and milk - among a few other things.

After he gets what he needs, he decides to peruse the aisles. He's already there, and he might find something he'll like.

As he leisurely pushes his cart down to the snack aisle, he hears a crash - like a bunch of boxes falling down at once. Among the crash is a shriek.

Some shoppers stop and look concerned and some stop and look confused. Jim, however, curiously goes toward the sound.

He finds a woman in the snack aisle, buried under boxes of cookies. She sighs. "Ow."

He goes over and holds out a hand to her. She takes it gratefully, and he pulls her up. He looks around at the cookies. "What happened?"

"I was trying to get some cookies off the top shelf, and then I started to fall over, so I grabbed at whatever was in front me on instinct..."

She's an idiot...

"That's..." Jim stops. "I honestly have no idea what to say."

She laughs. "I know; I'm an idiot."

... but her smile...

She starts picking up the cookies, and he decides to help her. "I'm Jim, by the way."

She smiles again, and he knows then and there that he's a goner. "I'm Y/N."

John - "What in the world- wow, she's beautiful."
Sherlock's busy today - something with Mycroft - so John decides to go out and get a coffee from a nice café a block or so over.

He walks in, orders his breakfast, and sits down in the corner, not really looking at anyone around him.

As he scrolls through his phone, he hears someone talking at the table next to him. She sounds confused. "Why is there ten thousand different ways to say 'the'?"

What in the world-

He looks up at the woman, wondering what's she doing, and sees her talking to her friend. She's holding her phone in front of her, typing on it. But John is mostly looking at her face.

- wow, she's beautiful.

"Well, I don't know," her friend replies, half-amused.

She sighs. "So, 'die' is feminine, 'der' is masculine, and 'das' is neutral," she says. "And there's no rule as to what noun is what, so you have to memorize it all. Great."

It pretty obvious now that she's learning a language - German, specifically.

"On to conjugations... Oh, good. There's only one present tense and, like, two of the ends are the same on all of these. The irregular verbs are what I need to worry about."

"Fascinating," her friend says sarcastically.

"Oh, shut up," she replies. "Excuse me for making an effort and wanting to learn another language."

"But you're complaining about it."

"I'm not complain- oh, my gosh the past tense conjugations. Why are all these words so big?"

"Because it's German, Y/N."

The woman - Y/N - sighs. "I'm just gonna do lessons on Duolingo and hope for the best."

"It's not that difficult once you get the present tense down," John suddenly says. Both Y/N and her friend look at him, and he blushes. "S-Sorry. I didn't mean to eavesdrop."

"No, you're fine," the friend says. "She talks too loud."

"Hey!"

"Am I wrong?"

Y/N chooses to ignore the question and turns to John. "So you can speak German?"

"Ja, ich kann, aber ich bin ein bisschen rostig," he replies. Y/N looks at him blankly, so he repeats himself in English. "Yes, I can, but I'm a bit rusty."

"I think the most I can say is, 'Du bist ein Kartoffel...' Yeah, that's about it."

"Well, at the very least you can call someone a potato."

And he just keeps talking to her from there, even after her friend leaves.

Sherlock - "Wow, she has a beautiful voice... Oh, no. Feelings."
Sherlock's walking around London's streets, trying to put the pieces of this case together. He couldn't think of anything in the flat, and people often take walks to clear their heads or figure things out.

So, here he is, wrapped in a coat, listening to the sounds of the city and taking it all in.

Then, something cuts through the sound of cars and people milling about.

A guitar.

And someone singing.

He rounds the corner, which is where the sound is coming from, and finds a woman performing on the street. A small crowd is gathered around her, but there's nothing near her to put money in.

Sherlock stops and listens.

"There was a greatness I felt for awhile, but somehow it changed. Some kind of blindness I used to protect me from all of my stains. Yeah, I wish this was vertigo; it just feels like I'm falling slow. Oh, if God is on my side, then who can be against me?"

Wow, she has a beautiful voice.

It's a slower song - pretty, in Sherlock's opinion. But sad at the same time.

However, when the woman looks up at Sherlock and they make eye contact, she has to fight to keep a smile off her face. She looks away from him and continues singing, but glances his way often.

"Yeah, in this wasteland where I'm livin', there is a crack in the door filled with light, and it's all that I need to get by. Yeah, in this wasteland where I'm livin', there is a crack in the door filled with light, and it's all that I need to shine."

After she finishes the song, Sherlock claps along with everyone else. The woman puts her guitar up, then politely declines a five pound note an elderly lady offers her.

Then, she walks over to Sherlock.

"Hi," she says.

Sherlock says no such thing. "Why don't you take any money?"

She shrugs, not jarred by his question or the abruptness of it at all. "Don't need it."

"Then why play on the street corner?"

"I was bored, and a lot of people like music. It's a win-win situation. I'm Y/N, by the way," she replies.

Sherlock holds his hand out. "Sherlock. And, if you don't mind me asking, what is it that you do when you're not playing music - for free - on the street?"

"I'm a music teacher at a primary school."

Sherlock internally panics.

Oh, no. Feelings.