Fandom Imagines.

#1: Extraordinary Happenings-Sherlock.

Authors note: (1/12/2021) hey guys, wanted to just say that you should ignore the internalised misogyny in this imagine. I wrote this when I was young and dumb and my description of the protagonist was a bit "pick me" and some of the language has implications of internalised misogyny too so just ignore that lol I cba to change it. Maybe I will one day if I can be bothered. Anyways, happy reading :)

IMAGINE THIS.

It's not like the books.

Extraordinary things never happened to ordinary people.

You slumped at the vinyl desk-for-one, flicking at the tape that peeled from the side to reveal the MDF board underneath. These plastic chairs were alright a few years ago but now all the heights were wrong and it made your back ache. You just seemed to awkwardly arch over the desk, your shoulders sagged slightly and one elbow rested on the wooden surface.

The lecturer droned on, you weren't quite sure what the topic was, Macbeth or something. You rolled your eyes, knowing Shakespeare someone would most definitely end up dead.

You normally liked English but in the past few weeks, you realized that everything had been slowing down in a way, besides it's not like you cared about it anymore, most of the grades involved writing some tedious article which you hated to do with a passion. Where was the creative writing? It had been a few days ago thatyou had decided to kiss your A's goodbye.

Today was especially terrible. It all seemed to trail along in time now. Did the clocks ever tick? You glanced up to the class clock.

1:45PM.

Why does time have to go so slowly? You thought forlornly, utterly bored as your bright eyes flickered up to the clock, narrowing almost accusingly. The hands seemed to never move. Everything was just so excruciatingly slow. You sighed tiredly, tilting you head into you hand as you tapped your blue bio sharply and impatiently against the scratched desk. Many of the kids around the class kept glancing your way in annoyance but you didn't care.

Being a teenager was hard. If you were any other age than eighteen going on nineteen, then life was just simpler. That's how it looked, anyway. What was the point? All you did was shuffle to university, pay attention in class, sit alone in free time, listen to another lecturer drone on and then you went back to your dorm. Then the process repeated.

You leaned back in your chair and splayed out you legs, staring at your black converse. The lecturer could've told you off but you were at the back of the class and even if they did you wouldn't care. You swept away a lock of hair from your eyes as your bored gaze trailed over to the window.

Outside, the busy scene of London life was still buzzing away. You still tapped your pen as you stared longingly out the window, your eyes unblinking. Life at London had recently gotten a lot more interesting as the detective, Sherlock Holmes, was back on the scene.

Turned out he wasn't dead at all. The bastard, you thought in wry amusement, John Watson must have had the shock of his life. He had returned with the promise of danger and it wasn't a surprising when John had begun to blog about their new adventures. You read his blog frequently and was always astounded about how brilliant the detective's mind was.

It seemed to you that Sherlock Holmes didn't need another brain but another heart and that was where his blogger came in. You were admittedly jealous of the adventures they had spent together and wished that you could only join them instead on sitting in a boring lesson.

Just as you were thinking this, the universe decided to answer your little prayer.

Before your mind even registered it, a man was flung into the exact window you were staring out. Glass flew everywhere, shards ruffling your hair and cutting your cheeks but you remained completely motionless in shock as the man crashed to the floor in a heap.