Sherlock Imagines

Prompt - You, a waitress at a small café in London, meet a man with dark hair, mysterious pools of ebony for eyes, and a demeanor that should unsettle you. He tells you of his life for some reason (he lies) . He uses you to commit a horrible act later, revealing his true identity.

Warnings - Cursing, really angry Sherlock, violence, blackmail, and basically everything involved in a crime show.

A/N- The reader doesn't support the whole 'consulting criminal' thing Moriarty does, unlike usual.

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It was another long day. It seemed as if warm drinks and sweet treats were far from the forefront of people's minds on these cold days. To you, it seemed that a nice coffee and a few warm biscuits would be all you needed for the day.

With that on your mind, you groaned , seeing the hands on the round clock, on the wall, moving slowly. Quitting time could not come soon enough, it seemed.

Finally, the bell on the door jingled, signalling that a new customer had walked in the door. You plastered a big, genuine smile on your face at the sight of a customer.

This wasn't just any customer . He was a man with a height of around five feet, eight inches tall. His brown hair was slicked back neatly, his suit was a Westwood,and his shoes were really polished up. Upon closer inspection, his brown eyes had a hint of madness in them. The man's demeanor would unsettle most, as his eyes shifted when he observed the café.

He sat down at a small table in the corner, but not far from the big window in the front. You pushed all thoughts about him out of the way and carried yourself to his table.

"What would you like sir?" you asked, pulling a notebook and pen out of your apron pocket. The man's gaze wandered to you. "Coffee. Black, like my soul. And a biscuit would be nice," he said. You wrote down his order and went behind the counter to prepare his order.

As you prepared, you pondered. Why did this Irish man seem so questionable? Why did he make the statement "black, like my soul"?

"Is making drinks and sweets really what you do for a living?" the Irish anomaly asked, startling you. You cleared your throat, pushing all bad thoughts aside. "For now," you said. He hummed in response.

"Well, I'm not usually one to tell about my job, but I'm an actor. That's my living; pretending to be someone else," he said. At this, you raised an eyebrow. Was this a clue? Was he pretending to be someone else?

Deciding that the coffee was done, you poured black coffee into a simple white teacup. You got a biscuit from under the heat lamp and put it in a brown bag. Carefully, you made your way to the table, placing the coffee and biscuit in front of him.

He licked his lips, eyes darting from the goods to you. When you finished, he pointed to the chair across from him. "Sit. Let's talk," he said, smiling unsettlingly. You complied, offering no resistance.