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It was a fresh start to a new year at academy for John Watson. The sweltering temperatures of the summer were now coming to a welcomed halt, and becoming colder, more fall-like weather. Fall was John's favorite season of the year because it allowed him to wear his cozy jumpers that he could bundle in for warmth. They were his choice of shield against the colder season. Autumn was also a time to see his mates again; which was practically his whole school. It took no effort to like John, everyone seemed to enjoy being around him and he was practically friends with everyone he met. That was until the day he was faced with the peculiar challenge of Sherlock Holmes.
**
The crisp bite of the Autumn wind was more than enough to make John shiver through the light fabric of his thin jacket as he passed through the scramble of downtown London. His overly-protective mother had earlier insisted that he had taken something more suitable for the chilly weather but John had not listened and now was left wishing that he had. What he needed, John thought to himself, was a warm cup of cuppa, or something - he wasn't too picky - that would help rid of the cold that nipped at his ill-protected body.
With a new determination set in mind, John was able to find a quaint cafe that would satisfy his needs for something warm. The shop was just as oddly charming on the outside as it was on the inside, and John found that it was mostly empty of customers. John had never been to this shop before, nor heard the slightest about the place. Still, John was not going to be picky and would give the shop a try, taking a few more short steps to the front counter. Most of the decor was slightly outdated and the lighting was a bit dim but it was a reasonably clean and a warm, welcoming place.
"Welcome to Speedy's Café! What can I get for you, sir?" A cheery voice interrupted John's inspection of the café, his head snapping to the direction of the voice. His eyes landed upon a teenage girl, which John assumed was about his age. She had mousy brown hair and a slightly awkward smile, but it still seemed genuine.
"Hi, uhm," John trailed off, he hadn't even taken a small glance at the menu yet. "I suppose I'll have a coffee, biggest size, and to-go. Please."
The girl nodded, quickly scribbling down John's order on a pad of paper. "Will that be all?" She asked politely, looking up at him.
"Yeah."
"Okay, that'll be 2.51, sir."
John dug his hand into his jacket's pocket, pulling out his wallet, and handed her the money with a polite smile as he promised his order would be ready shortly. John thanked her as she scurried off to other work related duties and took a seat at a corner table that could easily seat five. John, seeing most tables were available if more customers decided to stop in, figured it wouldn't bother anyone.
While waiting for his drink, John's gaze swept across the cafe once more, tapping his fingers silently along the table top. He pulled out his mobile a few seconds later, deciding to call his mum and inform her about his quick stop before she could get too worried. He also told her that he would still be on time for dinner and reassured her that no, he wouldn't get a cold, and everything else he needed to say to put her easily frantic mind at ease.
Shortly after finishing up his conversation with his mom, the girl who had taken his order, Molly - he figured after catching a glance at her nametag - was setting down his steaming hot cup of coffee. The aroma of espresso instantly swarmed John in a delightful, warm way. He had always liked the smell of coffee.
"Thanks, Molly." He said, noticing her smile at the use of her name. John looked down at his coffee which had a delicate, precise design made from the foam that settled on the top of his drink. "This is amazing." He said, smiling at Molly for her excellent work.
"Oh, I didn't do that." She said, her shoulders shook with her light laughter. "Sherlock, he's the barista. He's the amazing one." Molly nodded back towards the espresso machine where the boy she mentioned worked. She spoke of the barista with a fond and friendly expression, obviously they were good friends, John observed, before she walked off to leave John in solitary peace.
Not long after, John rose from his warm wooden seat, walking to the counter at the front of the cafe to grab a lid for his drink. As he did so, he caught a long enough glimpse of the boy Molly mentioned just minutes ago to see the boy's long, sharp face with a thick halo of dark curls surrounding his pale face, and piercing gray eyes that seem to render John frozen. John only realized he was staring when the gray eyes narrowed at him in suspicion, causing him to unfreeze and fumble awkwardly with the plastic lid for his coffee, causing him to swear internally.
John knew he'd seen that boy before but couldn't quite place his finger on it as he exited the café, shivering as he was attacked with the unforgiving sting of the frosty London air.
**
Over the course of the autumn season and the dropping temperatures, John found himself visiting the strangely appealing cafe regularly. Each time John visited the shop to study or needed a quiet place to relax, he was always delighted with the intricate foam design that rested on the top his coffee. He hated ruining the pieces of art with his sips but he wasn't about to let the coffee, which was always perfect to his liking, go to waste. John was becoming a top customer, if not at the very top already. Molly and John were familiar with each other, talking as if they were old friends each time he swung by on his way home. John had even met the owner of the cafe. The owner was a gentle older lady by the name of Mrs. Hudson, who always treated him like he was family.
The only other person associated with the cafe's staff was Sherlock Holmes, who John had yet to formally meet. The boy was not much of a talker nor very approachable, it seemed to John. Molly just told John that Sherlock was always like that and to not pay any attention to it or the boy. But that was the problem, John found himself searching for the barista even though the boy never gave John even a single glance.
John would often glance at the barista boy, Sherlock, while he worked because it was nearly as delightful as the coffee he received. Sherlock always had an intense look of concentration, as if the world depended on him making the perfect design, the perfect amount of honey that sweetened the drink, no, the absolute perfect coffee. The boy was simply memorizing to John. If the coffee was not perfect, John noticed, the boy would grumble unhappily and start all over but it didn't happen often, in fact it only happened once. The boy didn't make mistakes, he was a perfectionist. Again, Molly's words.
John would steal a look at Sherlock every time he stopped to study at the shop, at least that's what John told himself as he never actually got around to studying. Sherlock and his foam art never ceased to amaze John. John always made sure to leave a tip before he left. It had been months since John started visiting the cafe and John has still never talked to Sherlock, the boy John couldn't stop thinking of. John figured the boy didn't even notice him, which didn't bother John too much, but he planned on hopefully being able to finally talk to Sherlock soon. He would just have to wait for the perfect opportunity. John just simply wanted to let Sherlock know how much he enjoyed the designs and his coffees, he had no other reason, at least that's what he told himself. Was there more to it?
**
"Afternoon John, glad to see your shining face around here!" Mrs. Hudson chirped as she walked out from behind the counter and gave John a warm, motherly like hug.
John smiled at the older lady he had grown to think of as an aunt. "Afternoon Mrs. Hudson, you look lovely today and it seems your hip is better."
She smiled back at him, patting her hip lightly. "Much better, found an evening soother to help with this worn out thing!" She paused as John hung up his jacket he had worn, learning from his mistake of not wearing one the first few times he had visited, on the coat rack. "Tell Molly what you'd like, free of charge."
"Thank you, that's incredibly kind of you Mrs. Hudson, but coffee this delicious deserves pay." He said, glancing over at where Sherlock should be by the espresso machine, his smile faltering slightly when John found he wasn't there. "Besides, I'll only leave it in the tip when I leave if you don't make me pay."
Mrs. Hudson giggled, "Oh John, such a gentleman, well if you get anything else it's free of charge. I've got to head out but Molly or Sherlock are more than able to take care of you." She said as she wrapped herself in suitable clothing for the weather and was out of the shop before John could reply.
As if on cue, Molly appeared from within the back room for employees only, meeting John with a friendly grin. John grinned back at her, she had become a good friend of John's throughout the time he had spent here. He approached the counter, leaning casually against it as he had done countless times before.
"Do I even have to ask what you'd like?" She asked, giggling slightly.
"Nah, same thing as always for me." John paused, "Is Sherlock here today?"
Molly nodded, her grin transitioning into a curious smile, she wasn't completely oblivious as most people liked to think. "Yeah, as always. He's just in the back, business has been incredibly slow today. Probably since the weather has warmed up a bit, with the sun actually out and shining today."
John nodded, feeling a bit stupid for not thinking of the possibility that Sherlock was in the back, just as Molly had been a few minutes ago. He mentally rolling his eyes at himself nearly feeling panicked when he hadn't seen Sherlock's usual figure. "Right, I tried soaking up a bit of the sun as I walked here, warmed me up a bit. I'd still like my usual hot coffee though." He smiled again, excited to see what design would present itself today. John had been given several random designs that never failed to memorize him, one that couldn't have been anything other than a skull, and one with the union jack even.
As John and Molly continued to chat for a bit longer, neither noticed the dark headed figure that lingered by the door frame, who listened in on their meaningless conversation after hearing his name.
**
John typed and scrolled away on his computer, determined to actually get some of his work done if he wanted to succeed in attending medical school, and barely noticed his usual cup of coffee set carefully at the side of his computer.
"Ta, Molly." John said, not looking away from his computer screen, his eyebrows scrunched in concentration that had been hard to attain. The hours spent looking at his screen was burning his eyes. He only saw Molly's figure out of the corner of his eye, but something looked terribly off about it, her figured seemed more like a boys than anything and taller-
The figure that wasn't Molly cleared his throat, "No, not quite." Sherlock's deep, silky voice seeped through John's already thin bubble of concentration, causing John's heart nearly to jump out of his chest.
John's eyes quickly snapped to Sherlock's body, taking in a lean but sturdy torso, drifting up to the boy's eyes that seemed to be a mixture of colors. They could only be described as an early pale blue morning sky with flecks of the vibrant green from the healthy and rich mid-summer grass to John, who tended to romanticize things.
A small quiet gasp escaped John's lips; those eyes were a hook that had latched onto John and reeled him in to the danger that was Sherlock. A blush crept up the back of John's neck, realizing Sherlock had heard his gasp. John bit down his lip, instead of face palming himself, growing embarrassed as the silence stretched on to what seemed an endless amount of time, as if it were life's way of torturing him.
Sherlock's uncomfortable look and clear of his throat was what caused John to wake from his trance that Sherlock had so easily caused. Sherlock shifted his stance, he looked annoyed, impatient, and somehow gracefully awkward. John didn't even know how that was possible but leave it to the perfect curly haired boy that stood next to him to manage it.
"Er, hi, sorry? Yeah, sorry." John paused, licking his lip nervously, knowing he was making a major fool of himself. He coughed into his hand awkwardly before speaking, "Thanks, too for the uh, coffee."
Sherlock nodded, pursing his lips, looking away for a second before returning a scrutinizing gaze, his eyes narrowing, at John.
"Right, is there something I'm missing?" John asked, feeling small under Sherlock's watchful gaze, looking up briefly to Sherlock's eyes before looking back at his stuff and coffee.
John was confused when he saw, well when he didn't see a design in his foam and disappointment settled in the pit of his stomach. It was like a neatly wrapped present missing the final touch of the red bow, causing the present to lose its elegance, or an ice cream sundae lacking its usual appeal without the cherry on top.
Sherlock shook his head before opening his mouth to speak, gifting John's ears once more with his baritone, smooth as silk voice. "No. I'm going to be honest and get right to the point." Sherlock paused for a brief second to inhale a deep breath straight through his nose as John looked at him with a puzzled face. "I've noticed you watching me, since you make it tremendously obvious. It's clear why you're here every day."
John could feel his heart beat begin to pound in his chest, as if it were an engine revving up right before the start of a race. What was clear to Sherlock? John enjoyed the designs and the coffee, did Sherlock think there was more to it? Was there more to it than just that? Oh god, he had been such an idiot and frankly, a bit of a creep. But he hadn't meant to, it was just out of admiration.
"Y-you do?" The word's stumbled from John's mouth, his cheeks heating up with blush. John wished for nothing more than the floor to engulf him so he would stop making a complete and utter fool of himself.
"Yes, it's not a hard deduction. So, I would like you to stay away from me." Sherlock said coldly, pursing his lips.
John felt as if he'd been punched in the gut and all air had left his lungs, leaving him crippled and desperate for a breath of relief. Had he been that much of a creeper? He hadn't even got a proper introduction or conversation to show Sherlock who he really was. John definitely was not a creeper, or never intended to be so. Sherlock was just captivating, in an odd way. Or was Sherlock disgusted because he thought that John could possibly have a small crush on Sherlock? Did John have a crush on Sherlock? It's the only thing that would explain why he was so obsessed with him. Christ, what had he gotten himself into?
Sherlock was already walking away before John could reply and sort out this mess, but the words wouldn't escape from his mind. He could only focus on feeling of rejection. John gulped down, biting his lip and quickly standing to gather his things. He wasn't surprised when he tasted blood that came from biting his lip so hard, it hadn't hurt, not compared to the feeling of rejection. John didn't even bother with putting on his jacket, his whole body hot from blush caused by embarrassment, and needing desperately to leave. John's coffee remained left behind in the shop, untouched.
**
Molly had picked up John's coffee later, her confused reflection staring back at her in the, now cold, coffee's surface. Something had been off with Sherlock today and this only served to raise her suspicions.
"Sherlock?" She called out as she poured the untouched coffee into the sign, and began determinedly scrubbing down the smooth porcelain surface that squeaked under her sponge as it glided across the mug, returning it to its former cleaner shiny self.
"Hmm?" was the only reply as Sherlock came to stand by her, his arms crossed and wearing a neutral expression.
"Where'd John go? He was here earlier and usually says goodbye." She asked, trying not to sound too suspicious, glancing at Sherlock out of the corner of her eyes as she continued to clean the other mugs and plates that had piled up from the day.
Sherlock shrugged not knowing exactly who was John but figured she meant the blond boy that had been coming in everyday. "I delivered him his coffee," Sherlock paused, his expression becoming a little darker, "and told him to stay away from me." He mumbled but Molly easily understood what Sherlock had said.
Molly's eyes widened a bit and her hands stopped in their work. "You did what?"
"He's obviously been stalking me for the past few months, I don't appreciate the attention." Sherlock shrugged again, trying to look indifferent like he was just talking about the weather or something meaningless. Which to him, this was.
"You think he's stalking you?" Molly gasped, not sure whether to laugh or swat Sherlock. She did neither, as Sherlock talked before she could.
"He's constantly watching me Molly, I heard him talking about me the other day when he was chatting with you."
"One, Sherlock, you shouldn't be eavesdropping on other people's conversations and-"
"But it's okay for you to gossip about people and talk about people to their stalkers?" Sherlock snorted, interrupting Molly.
"No, that wasn't - you've got everything completely wrong Sherlock." Molly glared at him, but Sherlock ignored it.
"No, I don't think I do. I am never wrong."
"Sherlock, just listen to me-"
"Sorry, got to dash my shift has ended. An important experiment is needing my attention." Sherlock said, ignoring her and giving her a smug wink before leaving.
She gave him an exasperated sigh, shaking her head and continuing her scrubbing of dirty dishes.
**
John didn't return to the cafe for a couple weeks, he had been too humiliated and afraid to go back. Sherlock had made it clear that John's attention was unwanted. By the third week, John decided to finally return, missing the out of place cafe. John would not look at Sherlock, not even a single glance. He would be safe in that case, hopefully, and would be able to continue his visits without causing a disturbance.
The golden bell above the door rung as John stepped inside the café he had become so accustomed to, announcing his arrival. John's nose was instantly seized with the scent of coffee, spices, and something else he couldn't quite put his finger on. John hadn't realized how much he truly missed it all. As he looked around, John didn't see the familiar faces of Mrs. Hudson or Molly, everything seemed quieter and less lively as the shop was vacant of human life it seemed, except for himself.
John rang the silver bell that sat on the front counter that he was leaning against, with his arms crossed and elbows lying flat on the counter top while scanning the place for any signs of life. John heard footsteps coming towards the counter, faltering for a moment before they stopped in front of him with their owner and all.
They stared at each other and John gulped, his mind beginning to grow frantic under the sharp gaze of Sherlock before repeating, 'Be cool, don't panic. You can do this. Don't panic.' over and over in his mind, hardening his gaze to a determined one, lifting his chin up but making sure not coming across as hostile.
"Molly is not here today, she's sick, if you came here for her, nor is Mrs. Hudson at the moment." Sherlock said, looking impatient and annoyed.
"That's fine. I didn't come here for anyone particularly..." John trailed off, cursing mentally that out of all situations this had to happen. "I just wanted a coffee." John offered a slight smile and was not offered one in return.
"There's plenty of other coffee shops that you could've stopped at while on the way here."
John's eyebrows furrowed slightly, before replacing it with another insouciant smile. "Yeah, but you can't find coffee this good anywhere else in London, one sip and I was hooked."
Sherlock pursed his lips, before giving John a stiff smile. "What can I make for you today then, sir?"
John could feel the tense and unwelcoming vibes radiating off Sherlock like waves, making John's determined look falter slightly.
"My usual, please." John said, wetting his lips with his tongue.
Sherlock nodded, doing a terrible job of hiding his displeasure, if he was even trying. Sherlock made John's coffee but put a fourth of the effort into it than he normally would, apparently not caring if John liked it or not, which was the least surprising.
Sherlock took his time delivering John's coffee to him as he sat in his usual seat and set it recklessly down on the table, causing it to spill onto John's lap.
"Holy shit!" John cursed as the steaming hot liquid met contact, burning him even through his clothes and jumped from his seat, showing Sherlock he had spilt it on exactly John's crotch.
Sherlock slightly cringed at the sight and hurried to get a towel, tossing it to John. "Here."
John grabbed it quickly and started dabbing his jeans, trying to hurry to get the scorching liquid off of him to prevent any serious damage. Sherlock bit his lip but John couldn't tell if he actually felt bad for it.
"What was that for?" John asked, his head snapping up and their eyes met once again, both glaring at the other and their tension quickly making up for the emptiness that was in the cafe.
"I didn't mean to." Sherlock said, scoffing. "Plus, I did get you a towel."
"Oh thanks, I could've done fine without it if you wouldn't have spilt on me in the first place." John said dryly, wiping his hands that were sticky from the coffee. His skin still stung from the scorching he received.
Sherlock shrugged. "Accidents happen, like so." Sherlock said, gesturing to the stain on John's lap.
John rolled his eyes, glaring at the boy. "I don't think this was an accident. You've been hostile to me ever since I walked in here!" John growled, still trying to clean up the mess on his jeans.
Sherlock glared at him. "Yeah, well I told you to leave me alone, which you didn't." Sherlock snapped back, crossing his arms and standing stiffly.
"I don't see why me getting coffee's regularly ever bothered you. I wouldn't have come today if I knew you were going to be here." John said, grinding his teeth together and his fists tightening at his sides.
"You've been watching me ever since you stepped into this cafe, sorry that I find having a stalker unsettling!" Sherlock shouted, the tension between the two boys becoming overwhelming. Luckily the place remained empty.
John's hands loosened at his sides, his knuckles had become ghostly white, and his anger was replaced with innocent confusion. "You...you think I was literally stalking you?" He asked quietly, not sure whether to feel relieved that Sherlock hadn't known about his crush or to feel sick that Sherlock though he was stalking him.
Sherlock's face also became confused, his eyebrows knitting together. "Yes, are you not?"
John shook his head, at lost for words. "No, no...no. I'm not." John said with force, before breaking into a fit of giggles.
Sherlock's nose wrinkled, staring at the sandy blond with puzzlement. "Did I say something funny?" He growled, still agitated.
John shook his head, pursing his lips to stop giggling. "You honestly thought I was stalking you? I'm sorry but that is just a bit ridiculous, isn't it?" John couldn't continue without giggling some more.
"Then what were you doing coming here every day and watching me?" Sherlock asked, disorientated by the new discovery that John wasn't actually some sort of stalker.
John's giggled died quickly, pursing his lips once more. "I was, er, honestly fascinated by your art and your coffee is bloody delicious." He admitted, smiling slightly.
A faint blush dusted Sherlock's cheeks, causing John's smile to widen the tiniest bit. "Oh. So...you..."
"Yeah, I'm not a stalker. I guess I can see how it seemed that way, and I didn't mean for it to be like that." John smiled apologetically, "I-I actually have a bit of a crush on you." John admitted, smiling shyly and rubbed his arm, remembering he had a coffee stain all over his crotch area.
Sherlock looked down, remembering as well, "Oh god, I'm so sorry." Sherlock apologized, growing as red as a tomato.
"It's fine, the spill." John laughed lightly, looking down at the damage. "Although this is starting to grow really uncomfortable." he mumbled.
Sherlock laughed slightly, not able to suppress it even though he felt bad for spilling on John. "That probably wasn't the smartest thing I've done."
"A bit, yeah." John laughed with Sherlock, all tension and uneasiness had faded and they were left with a feeling of warmth and friendliness. "But, I forgive you. Hopefully you can forgive me."
"Of course, as you said it was a misunderstanding." Sherlock smiled brightly at John, feeling a foreign feeling of warmth spread inside him. "Say, could I possibly make it up to you...um, John?" Sherlock asked bashfully.
"John Watson." John smiled warmly, and nodded feeling his stomach flutter with hope.
"Dinner?" Sherlock asked, biting his lip as he grinned down at John, their eyes meeting.
"Starving but..." John trailed off, gesturing to his jeans and blushing.
"I have a pair of trousers you can borrow in the back." Sherlock said, smirking and gesturing for John to follow him.
**
A few weeks later...
Mrs. Hudson squealed with joy, or at least John thought it was a squeal, possibly could've been a heart attack, when she found John and Sherlock kissing in the back room. They both had instantly reddened like a stop light. They were glad Mrs. Hudson was highly approving, but also a bit mortified that she was encouraging it. She also never failed to mention that she had 'called it' every time she sees the newly made couple.
They ignored Mrs. Hudson's usual comment today as they sat in the corner of the cafe, hip to hip, shoulder to shoulder, and hands intertwined in the middle of them. It was their daily ritual, to sit in the same spot and study, but they usually got distracted and ended up snogging, or one would try to sneak a small kiss as one read from their textbooks. It was their own little sanctuary, their own small slice of heaven in the chaos of the world.
John laid his head against Sherlock's shoulder as Sherlock read from their biology textbook, his eyes were closed and Sherlock's warmth was radiating onto him, making him more than content. John listened to Sherlock as he read, the words were processing in his head but John never got tired of hearing the heavenly deep voice that was Sherlock's. John shuddered as he felt Sherlock's long fingers that were perfectly chiseled marble columns trailed up and down his arm with the softest touch John had ever felt. John made a noise of protest when Sherlock stopped, the tingling sensation dying with it.
Sherlock chuckled quietly, stopping his reading and John already missed both his touch and voice. John opened his eyes and wasn't surprised when Sherlock eyes (gray today, resembling the gray storm clouds that clustered in the sky and peppered the city with snow) were staring back at his.
"Why'd you stop?" John pouted.
"I thought you had fallen asleep from being bored."
John smiled softly, shaking his head. "No, I'm never bored with you."
John was rewarded with a smile from Sherlock, the one that only John could cause and was for John's eyes only. It spread a warmth through John knowing that.
"Well, I'm tired of reading this book. I have something else in mind." Sherlock smirked, dipping his head and pressing his cupid bow lips to John's gently, his hand sliding up to the back of John's neck, sending shivers down John's spine.
John kissed back with equal pressure, every noise in the back ground and thought fading as his mind focused entirely on Sherlock's warm delicate lips on his. John's heart beat revved to life, his heart threatening to race right out of his chest. As Sherlock pulled John closer, he couldn't tell whose heart beat belonged to who but neither cared. They only cared about the person in front of them and that they were each other's.
Fin