SherlockxReader One Shots/Imagines/preferences REQUESTS CLOSED!!

Preference: First Meeting

A/N: I haven't done on of these for awhile. Might as well try it out. 

By the way, all the things put in the preferences are connected to other preferences, but not the one shots/imagines. Just to let you know!

Warnings: Swearing

Hope you enjoy!

-Kris

---------------------------------------------

Sherlock: It was kind of terrible, really.

Your flatmate and her boyfriend had both been  brutally mudered. A double homocide. You were an obvious suspect and were taken into custody. You hadn't even done anything! But you understood the circumstances.

You didn't have any friends you could ask to bail you, so you were stuck in jail. The first night in a group cell wasn't exactly your idea of fun. People glared at you and the people around you constantly, two people were getting it on in the corner, cigarrette smoke everywhere. One man had even gone over to try and assault you. You were glad for your self defence training in kicking-in-the-place-where-the-sun-never-shines-quando that night. 

Needless to say, it was a sleepless night. Early in the morning you had an interrogation with a man named D.L. Lestrade. You sighed and tried to stay calm. You were suspected for a double homocide for a logical reason. You were in the same flat when they had been stabbed about a million times in the chest. 

The room you were in for interrogation was grey and had a mirror, no, a one-way window on the wall. You sat in a chair by a table, handcuffed, as D.I. Lestrade came in, carrying a couple things. The man had grey hair, a slightly tanned face, and a tired expression. You stopped yourself from trying to observe him, since you knew it was slightly useless in this situation. He sat down in the chair across the table. He placed a recording device on the table, but didn't click the button. He spoke.

"Hello, Miss..." he looked at the clipboard he had tiredly. "(Y/L/N). My name is Detective Inspector Lestrade. I need to ask you a few questions and if you check out alright, you'll be free to go, alright?"

"Got it," you said, nodding. You glanced at the window and wondered who was staring at you through it. Judging. Listening to your every word. It was creepy to think about.

"Then let's begin," Lestrade said, pressing the record button on the device. "Where were you on the night of the murder?"

"I was sleeping in my room in the flat below," you said.

"While you were sleeping did you hear anything suspicious coming from upstairs?" he said.

"I heard screams, but I thought they were erotic. They tend to get a little...roudy," you said. "Especially when they're excited."

Only five minutes in and the door opened to reveal a tall man with a pale face, dark and curly hair, and high cheekbones. D.I. Lestrade paused the recording. "What is it, Sherlock? You're supposed to be watching the interrogation from the other side of the window, not in the room itself. And who let you in?"

"Donovan left to go 'have a chat' with Anderson," the tall man apparently named Sherlock said. You resisted a smile. "I need to interrogate her myself, if you don't mind."

"Sherlock, you know I'd be breaking all the rules. Like I am now."

"But you also need me. And you've broken the rules before."

Lestrade sighed. "Go ahead. I'll watch." The grey haired man left almost dejectedly as the taller man took the now absent seat. 

"How long have you lived in your flat?" the tall man said, not even bothering with the recording device.