i finished the sherlock holmes tv series on netflix in three days! that show was honestly so amazing. i love sherlock and watson so much. benedict cumberbatch is my favorite sherlock ever.

and of course if you have questions about this imagine, ask me in the comments! i realize that some of you don't know anything about sherlock holmes lol.

☽♛☾

ethan dolan, aka sherlock holmes sat in his famous chair with you, y/n, aka dr. watson, across from his way. there was a man who stumbled into the famous residence on 221b baker street, where the famous sherlock holmes solved crimes.

there had been a yellow smiley face in the wallpaper, accompanied with gunshots surrounding it. ms. hudson was the landlord, and she hadn't been too happy about them. she was forever grateful to sherlock after seeing her husband die before her very eyes. he was a drug dealer and much more, she was relieved he was gone, so she let the gunshots slide.

the man sat in the wooden chair to the right of you with a worried expression. he fiddled with his fingers as he nervously looked between the both of you two.

sherlock cleared his throat. "well, are you going to talk or are we all just going to sit in silence?"

the man piped up. "right. im sorry, sir. um, i came here because i need your help."

"doesn't everyone?" sherlock says in his heavy british accent.

"when i was a kid, i saw my father murdered before my eyes. he was killed by something that resembled a wolf. it looked like it was made in a lab of some sort. it didn't look...normal."

his story seemed familiar to you, and that's when the news article came into mind. "you're him, aren't you?" your british accent also spoke. "the one they did that report on? i saw it in the news."

the man nodded his head. "im henry dobbins, or better known as the crazy kid who watched their father die."

sherlock spoke of nothing as he over analyzed henry and his posture. sherlock couldn't help it, he was a psychopath as he called himself.

"im sorry for your loss," you attempted to sympathize.

henry sent a closed lipped smile to you. "will you help me solve his death?"

sherlock stood up. "nope. get out." he sauntered to the kitchen where he was greeted with a fresh pot of hot tea from ms. hudson.

you looked to sherlock and gaped at him in surprise.

henry stood up and dusted off his pants. "i understand, i sound crazy to you, but it's the truth." he walked out the apartment building and slammed the door on his way out.

"you've done it again!" you yelled.

sherlock sipped at his tea. "he's obsessing over the idea of it. you could clearly see the tip of his fingers, they were covered in little paper cuts. his eyes were a dull red and his breath smelled awful. the fidgeting means that he's obviously still shaken up about the whole ordeal even though it's been years."

"that's called grieving, ethan. maybe you don't understand it because you're-"

"a psychopath? yes, i know. anyway, i don't have time for bickering, we have to go."

you looked puzzled. "to where?"

"to his town to find that wolf or whatever it was. grab your bag and put on your coat,       y/n watson. we have a case to solve."

you yelped. "but you told him no."

he shrugged. "you looked pretty upset when i said no. your shoulders dropped and the blood from your face washed out. you also pouted, which you never do unless your bummed out."

"you noticed all of that?" you could feel your face burning at how he read you like a book.

his hand brushed across your cheek. "of course. i notice a lot more than i say," he says while winking.

you laugh and he kisses your cheek, leaving his a rosy red.

"c'mon," you push him to the door. "we have a wolf to find."