Sherlock one shots x readers, preferences and imagines

Sherlock one shot x reader - Tom Hiddleston

I lay on the couch and listened to the sound of John's fingers quickly hitting the keys on his keyboard and the sound of Sherlock's voice that muttered something so now and then. I was bored, terribly bored. Sherlock sat on the ground in front of the couch and for some reason he allowed me to run my hand through his black curly locks while he read the newspaper, searching for new cases. 'And, found anything?' I asked though I didn't really want an answer. I just wanted to talk to someone. 'No.' Sherlock said with a certain tone in his voice that clearly showed his annoyance. 'Only papers written full with useless things like this person who comes to London tomorrow.' He said.

'Who is it?' John asked, he didn't really want an answer either. He just wanted Sherlock to talk more, he had been awfully quiet lately and John and I started to worry about him. 'Oh, just this foolish actor everyone seems to adore so much.' Sherlock responded. 'What's his name?' I asked and turned around on the cosy couch. The pillow underneath my head was really soft so I placed my hand on it and stroke over the tickling fabric. But Sherlock's response made me stop every movement I made and my mouth opened, ready to scream, when I realized who the "foolish actor" was.

'Oh, this man, Tom Hiddleston, or something.'

'What?!' I shouted and immediately rose. 'Tom Hiddleston? H-he's returning to London?!' I wanted to grab the newspaper out of Sherlock's hands but he rose too and he was way too tall so I couldn't reach the papers. 'Give it, Sherlock.' I said and jumped to take it. Sherlock was still too tall. 'Why would I?' He asked, his blue eyes now shining with a light of amusement. 'Because I want you to.' I tried.

Sherlock looked at me with a mischievous smile on his face. 'Who is this Hiddelton and why do you like him so much?' I rolled my eyes at him. 'It's Hiddleston and he's an amazingly talented and kind actor who played in a lot of films. I love him most of all because he's Loki.' I said and tried to get the newspaper one more time. John looked away from this screen and now stared at the happening with a smirk on his face. 'Well, don't you just stay there smirking, help me!' I said but John shook his head. 'Sorry, dear, this is your fight.' He grinned.

Sherlock still looked at me and now a questing entered his eyes. 'Loki? As in, that character of the Norse mythology?' He asked. 'Yes, but this version is much better.' I said and jumped again. 'And extremely handsome.' I added softly with a huge smile on my face, hoping that Sherlock did not hear me.

But he did.

'Handsome?' He said and frowned. 'Yes, terribly good-looking. Why do you ask, are you interested?' I teased Sherlock who opened the newspaper in the air and looked at the picture. 'Well, he's not that handsome.' He said and my smile grew bigger. 'Are you kidding me? That man is gorgeous!' I said. 'Who are we talking about?' Mrs. Hudson said as she walked in with teacups filled with the warm drink that filled the room with a wonderful smell. 'Tom Hiddleston.' I answered and smirked at Mrs. Hudson. She smirked back. 'Oh yes, I agree. That man is gorgeous.' She giggled.

'Really? Even you?' Sherlock shouted out upset. 'Oh, don't you worry Sherly. You're pretty too.' Mrs. Hudson said sweetly and Sherlock seemed to be slightly satisfied with that answer. I added: 'Though no one could possible top Tom Hiddleston.' And his satisfaction disappeared like winter snow for the spring sun.

I took my coat and put it on. 'Where are you going?' He asked me. 'Outside.' I answered. 'Why?' He asked. 'What will you be doing?'

'I'll be buying a new newspaper.'

***

Loud country music sounded through the rooms of 221B and probably every other home on a ten miles distance. Molly, Mrs. Hudson and I danced through the living room, loudly singing along with both my hands on my heart. "I got a feeling called the bluuues, oh Lord, since my baby said goodbye. Lord I don't know what I'l doooo, all I do is sit and sighiaioh Lord." I sang. 'What kind of horrible music is that?' Sherlock asked and placed his hands on his ears. 'It's 'lovesick blues' from Hank Williams.' I answered. 'And why do you listen to those terrible sounds?' He asked and searched for his violin. He searched and searched, desperately throwing papers in the air. They slowly fell to the ground.