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"It was the brother," concluded Sherlock after observing the crime scene. The brother was rather dumb, as everything pointed to him. He threw off his gloves, and nodded to Lestrade. "Next time fetch me a less dull case."
John gave Lestrade a small smile as he followed behind Sherlock, who slowed his strides for his shorter companion.
As they continued out in silence, suddenly Sherlock felt John's precense leave. He looked over and immediately felt...uncomfortable?
A woman, one of the police offers going by her outfit, stopped John to talk to him. Sherlock stalked over, rolling his eyes. The woman--way too young for John--was flirting.
Pathetic.
Sherlock scanned her, making quick and easy deductions. Cat lady, about four or five cats. Yes, five. Often rides horses. About 5 foot five, nearly John's height. Lonely and desperate for any man's attention.
Stopping himself, Sherlock concluded that the woman was definitely not for John. Definitely not in any way whatsoever. "Pardon," Sherlock said in greeting to John and the woman.
"Oh, hello!" She replied in greeting.
John huffed under his breath. Sherlock paid him no mind and scooted closer to him. He must protect his best friend from Crazy Cat Ladies, of course.
"This is my uh, my friend." John awkwardly gestured to him. "Sherlock Holmes. Sherlock, this is Taylor an old friend of mine."
Taylor stuck out her hand. Sherlock started at it for a moment before reluctantly shaking it. "So you're Sherlock Holmes? John has told me so much about you."
"Oh. He has." that gave Sherlock a slight moment of triumph.
"You're like his sidekick!"
Sherlock deduced she was dumb, but this is a whole new level. Sherlock, as the sidekick? He huffed. "Ah yes," he looked over at John. "the sidekick."
John and Taylor hugged and exchanged numbers, leaving Sherlock to stand there like an annoyed child.
"Very well. Are we done? Pleasure meeting you Tina." With one last glare, Sherlock dragged off John.
"What the fuck Sherlock. What is wrong with you?"
Sherlock flagged down a taxi. "She clearly shows romantic interest in you. I simply was showing her that her advances are not welcome, as you aren't looking for a relationship." As they climbed into the car, he continued explaining. "I deduced that she is not the right one. She's a crazy cat lady. Two is alright, but five is insanity."
John groaned. "Let me guess, you guessed she likes cats by her shoes?"
"No, you have to look. She clearly is by the smell of cat piss on her and the fur on her clothing!" Sherlock leaned back in his seat, glaring at the back of the Cabbie's seat.
John opened the door as soon as they got to Baker Street. "My God."
Sherlock followed John into their flat, discarding of his coat and scarf.
When John disappeared in his room Sherlock was very confused by how disappointed he was that John didn't stay to chat any longer.
He never felt like this around other John's... women. He breathed out slowly and picked up his violin, hoping that John would come out and yell at him for playing when he was trying to sleep.
"Dinner?" Repeated Sherlock, flabbergasted. "We have dinner here. We can go to--"
John rubbed his temples. "Yes Sherlock. Dinner. A date. Remember? We've gone over this before--"
Sherlock set his skull down--no, it more like a slam. He groaned inwardly. Control your emotions, Sherlock. "Yes, yes I've heard this before. It's where two people who like each other go out and have..." He said the word bitterly, as if poison was in his mouth. "Fun."
John threw on his blazer. "Yes fun. You know what that is, right?"
Turning around, marching onto the table and falling backwards into the couch, Sherlock growled. "Yes I do. But you don't like each other!" He insisted.
John opened his mouth to retort, but quickly thought better of it. "I'm going to be late. Please for the love of God don't set the house on fire."
In reply Sherlock simply just sighed.
With one last look, John grabbed his wallet and left.
"Dinner. Dates. Fun." Sherlock repeated those words to himself harshly.
Mrs. Hudson came upstairs, seeing Sherlock in distraught. "Oh, where is he going off to?"
"dinner."
"ooh! With who? And without you?" Mrs Hudson poured out some tea for Sherlock. "I made him some tea too.."
Sherlock simply sighed again, except this time louder.
"oh it's okay," mrs. Hudson, said in an attempt to soothe Sherlock. "He's just having fun."
"I'm not upset," snapped Sherlock as he turned over to face away.
Mrs. Hudson left silently.
When John came home that night, Sherlock bitterly looked over his shoulder from his unmoving spot on the couch. "Had fun?"
John shook his head. "Well, she apparently has moved here.."
Sherlock sat up. "Oh of course she has!" He silently cursed. "It was so obvious too, stupid!."
John chuckled too himself. "You didn't seem to have moved." He looked over at the cold, untouched tea cups. "You usually enjoy a cuppa."
"Not without you," he mumbled to himself.
"Pardon?"
"It was just fine without you!" Sherlock said, standing up on the table as he crossed his arms. That cup is yours."
John hummed. "Mmhm. Did you move at all?"
Sherlock shrugged.
"So that's a no. Great."
Sherlock pushed past John, to make sure their shoulders brushed. "A second date has been made I assume?"
"Excuse you. And Yes, it has."
"Wow, amazing! great!" He flopped down on John's chair. "How great. I hope you two get married?"
"What is your bloody issue?"
"Nothing!"
That was a lie. Sherlock himself knew something was wrong, but he didn't know how he felt. This couldn't possibly be... jealousy? Ha, no. Of course not...
"Well I am going to bed."
sherlock pick up John's cup and smashed it against the floor.
Sherlock best the corpse as hard as he could, baseball bat in hand. The corpse now was in bits. He sighed, setting it down.
Molly entered, a slightly horrified gaze. "Uh, bad day?"
"Hm."
Molly shifted. "Is it John?"
Sherlock's gaze snapped up. "What?"
"John." Molly coughed awkwardly.
Sherlock warily moved around the table the corpse laid on. "What about him?"
"He's usually uh.. with you? I, I, mean and--" Molly cut herself off. "Sorry to assume."
"Can I trust you with something as... fickle as emotions Molly?"
molly nodded. "Yes!"
"I feel something new around John, causing me to burst out in fits of anger." Sherlock picked up the Baseball bat and smashed it into the corpses head. "Hm. interesting."
"I've seen how you look at him, you know." Molly said quietly. "When he's not looking."
Sherlock rolled his eyes.
"I mean, I wish somebody would look at me like that," Molly gave out a small laugh.
"How do I look at him any differently than I would a... colleague?" Sherlock questioned.
Molly shifted. "Uh.. coffee?"
Sherlock took a step forward. " don't avoid my question."
"Well, I mean Lestrade wouldn't look at Anderson as you look at John."
"Well of course, Anderson is disgust--- Oh."
It hit him. "Oh, emotions were never my thing. A shame, as I am intelligent in most everything else. ah, Well I simply will just terminate these silly emotions. Thank you Molly!" Just as Sherlock was about to leave, Molly stopped him.
"Terminate?"
"yes, obviously." Sherlock shifted his gaze directly onto Molly's. "Wouldn't be good to have these... pesky feelings for a colleague."
Molly winced. "Yeah but... Maybe he feels the same."
"Goodbye, Molly."
Sherlock left, leaving the door open behind him. Molly left after standing there for a moment in thought.
When sherlock arrived home, John was sitting in his chair with Taylor across from him.
"Oh." sherlock bit his lip. Of course she was here.
"Hey Sherlock, where were you?" John greeted.
Sherlock. "Nowhere. Why is... Terry here?"
John gave Taylor an apologetic look. "Her name is Taylor. She's visiting."
Sherlock grabbed Taylor's wrist and pulled her up. "Visit time is over," he snapped pushing her out the door and slammed it shut.
"sherlock!" Yelled John. "What is your everloving problem?"
"You're the problem, so is she!" Sherlock snapped back. Fuck holding back emotions. He is tired. "You and your.. dates! You don't need a girlfriend! I am right here."
John stomped forward. "What do you me--"
Sherlock, maybe slightly drunk on the argument and how John looked when he was angry. How has he never noticed how Handsome John was? Sherlock grabbed John's collar and pulled him forward to an awkward, and probably terrible kiss. He was sure it convey the emotions well enough.
When they pulled apart, John gave a look at Sherlock, clearly in shock, then started grinning. Then he was giggling. Then he was laughing, doubled over laughing. When he composed himself, tears fell from his eyes.
Sherlock had an internalized panic. Did he do something wrong? Isn't this what happens in romance movies and novels?
"You complete, absolute wanker!" Laughed John.
"Pardon?"
"She isn't my girlfriend. She's gay!"
Sherlock froze, then suddenly he slapped himself in the face. All of the signs! Short nails, all the cats, and the rainbow wristband she wore! How could he let.. love blind him so much? Stupid!
"Oh."
John took a step forward, "You can be so dumb sometimes."
Sherlock stammered. "I--well, oh..."
John kissed Sherlock, this time the kiss was warm and nice, less awkward and sweaty last time. Oh, Sherlock can get used to this.