Sherlock Imagines

Ice Cream

You and Sherlock go for ice cream...

*********************************************************************************************************

 “Sherlock, I’m going out,” you called as she grabbed your coat of the rack. Sherlock has been lying on the couch in his prayer position with eyes closed for the past three hours. You were getting bored and wanted to go out for some ice cream. Upon hearing you announce your departure, Sherlock’s eyes shot open and he asked, “What? Where?” You sighed, “If you must know, I’m going to go get ice cream. At least someone actually talks to me there.” “Who talks to you there?” He was getting a little more persistent now. You answered, “Alan, he’s the owner. Every time I go there, he sits and talks with me. Unlike you, my boyfriend,” you grumbled.

 Before you could open the door, Sherlock was by your side, throwing on his coat and scarf. “Where are you going?” You asked him. “Out to get ice cream with you,” he stated as if it were obviously. You looked at him confused and asked, “Why?” “Because…I…I-I want to.” You looked at him with your mouth agape. Sherlock just looked at you confused and asked, “Well, are we going?” “Uh, yes! Yes, let’s…let’s go.” Sherlock took your hand in his and led you down the stairs and into the warm streets of London.

The ice cream parlor wasn’t too far away, so you got there in just a few minutes. As soon as you walked in, a man behind the counter whom Sherlock assumed was Alan, greeted you cheerily, beaming, “Hey [Y/N]! How are you sweetheart?” Sherlock looked baffled at the nicknames you were given by this guy. “Hey Alan,” you smiled. “This is my boyfriend, Sherlock!” “Hello, Sherlock! It’s a pleasure to meet you, finally!” Sherlock looked skeptical at the man and started deducing him. He would have finished, too, had it not been for you elbowing him in the ribs. He cleared his throat and said, “Pleasure.” Alan just chuckled and asked, “All right, what will it be?”

You turned to Sherlock and asked, “What are you going to get?” Sherlock put a protecting arm around your waist, pulled you close, and said, “Oh, I don’t think I’m going to get anything, but I’ll get you whatever you want, sweetheart.” You looked at him curiously, but quickly realized why he was even here. He’s jealous. You smiled to yourself and said, “I’ll think I’ll get…” “Strawberry,” Sherlock told you. “You’ve been looking at in since we got here, but you looked at chocolate, too. You get that every time though—whenever you come home and kiss me, I can taste it—but you want something new. Strawberry.” You were smirking, while Alan had his mouth agape, staring at Sherlock.

“You heard the man, Alan,” you said. “Strawberry.” “Right,” Alan said and started dishing up the ice cream into a cone. Sherlock took out his wallet and paid, then handed the ice cream to you. “Here you are, my dear,” he smiled. You took the ice cream and thanked him with a kiss on the cheek. You both sat at a table in the corner of the shop. Usually, Sherlock would sit across from you but this time, he sat next to you. He draped his arm over your shoulder and nuzzled his face in your neck.

“Sherlock,” you chuckled. “What are you doing?” “Mmm, being cute.” You laughed, “You’re always cute, but now you’re just being adorable.” “I am not adorable,” he grumbled. “Are, too,” you retorted. He fluttered some kisses on her neck. “Sherlock,” you giggled. “Stop! What is with you?” Sherlock did a quick glance over to Alan, who was staring at him intently. Sherlock smirked, then looked back to you. You were now focused on your ice cream. Sherlock gently grabbed your hand that was wrapped around the cone and brought it to his lips. He licked the ice cream a few times, then took a bite. You had a small smile on your lips. 

You knew exactly what was going on. Sherlock, even though he'd never admit it, was possessive. He wanted to shoot any man that oogled you like Alan. You remember how he actually pulled out his gun when Anderson stared at your ass. That didn't go over too well with Lestrad.

You noticed Alan was walking over, probably to see if he could get you anything else, but unfortunately Sherlock didn't want him near you. Before he could get to your table, Sherlock grabbed your head and brought you in for a hard kiss. Your eyes were closed, releshing in the softness of his lips, but Sherlock had his eyes open, shooting glares at Alan. 

Alan had stopped in his tracks when Sherlock had kissed you and started to feel awkward. Sherlock loved it. He plunged his tongue into your mouth, getting a moan from you. Oh how your moans get to him. You are the first woman to ever affect him like this. He hated it, but he loved it. What he hated was the fact that he felt something for you, cared for you, wanted you. He loved it because you made him better in so many ways. Also, the sex helps him think and relax. 

Speaking of sex...

He quickly broke the kiss and panted, "We need to go." You were about to ask why, but then you saw the look. It wasn't the look that he gave you when he needed you to help him think or relax, it was the look that he gave you when he wanted to take you into the bedroom and not let you out until the next day. Clearly, the jealousy mixed with that arousing make-out session sparked something in him. 

This was the Sherlock Holmes only you got to see. 

Quickly, he stood up and dragged you along. He took your ice cream, threw it out, and then pulled you out of the ice cream shop without giving Alan a second glance. Why would you need to? Your consulting, high functioning sociopathic detective was dragging you back to Baker street to shag your brains out. You wouldn't want anyone else but him and you plan to show him that.