Chapter Text
I. SWEAR. I. WAS. GOING. TO. KILL. SHERLOCK. HOLMES!
It all began with William, lowering his standards to ask that suspicious looking barista out for a date. Albert told me to follow them along to offer a helping hand if needed, and slit Sherlock Holmes’ throat if he ever did something he shouldn’t be doing.
William, cladded in his usual outfits, but changed the smell of his perfume to impress that guy. They decided to meet at noon to enjoy lunch together, then continued to the museum.
First of all, that guy leaned in to sniff my brother’s chest, making my brother flusteredly blinking his eyes.
“Hey—”
The guy said with beet red ears “Have you changed your perfume?”
“Yes, I did,” William paused, frowning, “Do you not like it?”
“Oh, it’s not like that! It’s just that the fruity and floral notes suit you more than I thought.”
“Is that…a good thing or a bad thing?” With all due respect—he was blinking until the lashes might fall off. THAT GUY. How dare he made William flustered into malfunctioning!?
“It’s not a bad thing at all! I mean, you usually use a more mature, soft, musky scents. But today…how should I say it…I feel like I get to see the side of you nobody has seen before...I guess?”
And they stood there in the midst of the chilly autumn gusts, as if their souls had left their bodies for two solid minutes. Sherlock then coughed, and pulled William’s wrist, leading him into the museum.
The third level of feeling flustered: from rapidly blinking, to super rapidly blinking, to super rapidly blinking and slightly trying to hide his burning cheeks in between his shoulders like a turtle. That was what happened after the guy held William’s wrist!
“Let’s get inside. It’s quite chilly today. We don’t want you to get sick.” Why did your voice suddenly drop to baritone!? Such coquettery!
“Yeah,” he mumbled, hiding his face under the collars of his beige coat.
My dear brother, why did you have to let him make you bashful!?
Yet, once they entered the exhibition, their focuses seemed to switch to intellectual discussions. They talked in the English I only understood 40% of it, but darn, William’s face radiated joy so bright I almost gotten blinded.
If I must be completely honest, I coulnd’t think of anyone beside Sherlock Holmes who could carry such smooth conversations with my brother as if they’d known each other for decades. (Fluff you!)
Why must William have a crush on the person I hated? No, not really, I hated everyone who approached William. No, no, no! Nobody would ever be good enough for my brothers!
After that, they went on a walk under the cascades of red leaves in the university’s botanical garden. They sat on a bench, gazing at the lonesome landscape of autumn.
“Thanks for accepting my invitation today,” said William. A faint smile graced his lips, yet his eyes focused on his own hands clasping on his lap.
Same went for Sherlock. “No, I should be the one thanking you for inviting me out.”
“Since I don’t get to hangout with someone I truly connect with through conversations everyday,” he adorably peeked at him from under his lashes. If the barista didn’t fall in love, I’d kill him! “Thank you for today.”
“Same goes,” I observed his invisible ears and tail flapping and wagging nonstop. What a hideous sight! “I really enjoy spending time with you.”
The tip of William’s nose started turning red. He sniffed to relieve the chills enshrouding his nose. Sherlock decided to wrap his own scarf around my brother, like wrapping a mummy, then shifted his voice three octaves deeper again, “It’s pretty cold out here.”
William exclaimed, “Your scarf—”
“Just take it for now, Prof, if you got sick, who’s gonna teach the students?” He smiled, scratching his own nape.
Sugar Honey Iced Tea! The scene was so romantic William must’ve fallen in love for the nth time! This guy was a real threat!
So, what could my brother do except burying his face into the softness of the scarf reeking of the barista’s scent. But I never thought of William saying this: “The smell of coffee beans, it reminds me of you…of Sherlock Holmes.”
The guy beamed, “More specifically, it’s the special blend I made. I infused rose, jasmine, and rosemary. You like it?”
“I love it! It’s so similar to the tea I frequent, and you happened to created this blend. This might be one of the reasons why I love your coffee,” William returned the smile, talking through the layers of yarn.
“So, there are other reasons,” the guy shuffled, as if bugs were crawling all over his heart. “Asking for business purposes, truly, I want to improve the café.”
Oh, truly.
“Well, recently, everytime I smell some coffee, my brain…does this palindromic thing, though your name is not a palindrome, but an emordnilap, but my brain always does this thing with you…”
The shells of Sherlock’s ears turned bright red, like my brother’s nose. They gazed into each other’s eyes, lips slowly drew close like S-N magnets, eyes fluttered shut, and they melted into one another.
I balled up my fist, ready to attack, but that guy still had some shame.
The criminal-looking barista switched to kissing William’s forehead instead, lowering his gaze as he retreated into his own position. Meanwhile, my brother was molten into a soft block of butter in the embrace of that guy’s coffee-scented scarf.
The husky voice whispered, “You, too, are my palindrome.”