Work Text:
Close my eyes and I’m back there. Can smell the bleach. The chemicals.
Stood, pipette in hand. Double rap at the door. Ignore it.
In you step. I look up briefly. Oh. Interesting.
Bit different from my day.
Sit down. Listen.
You’ve no idea.
Boring. My turn.
Mike, can I borrow your phone? There’s no signal on mine.
I’m lying. My signal is excellent here, always has been.
What’s wrong with the landline?
For god’s- I prefer to text.
I know it’s a no before he even opens his mouth; a stickler for the rules, Mike never has his phone on him when he’s in the lab. Still, I hold my breath.
Sorry, it’s in my coat.
Oh, Mike, you lovely idiot. Thank you.
Assume a slightly annoyed look.
3, 2, 1…
Here, use mine.
Look up. Surprised. Not entirely faked.
Oh. Thank you.
Stand. Walk towards you. Mike is saying something. Not listening at all but still your name pierces through my subconscious. John Watson.
Hello, John Watson.
I take the phone. Flip it. Still warm from your hands. Highlights just how cold mine are. I would let you warm me up if you asked, I think. Maybe even if you didn’t. Feel a sudden burst of shame wash over me. What is this? You’re distracting already. Must be careful.
Text Lestrade - If brother has green ladder arrest brother. SH.
Then bait the hook.
Afghanistan or Iraq?
Mike watches us. I remember wishing he’d leave. Just go, I thought. We’re fine now.
He’s here and I’m fine now.
Of course he didn’t leave, though, and of course Molly joins us. Not as annoyed as I could have been at her appearance. Quite welcome the coffee. Hadn’t slept a wink the night before. Slight headache. Say something dismissive. Cruel, probably. Poor Molly. Don’t know why I did that. Keep talking.
How do you feel about the violin?
Not sure if I’m trying to put you off or lure you in.
Sorry, what?
Throw more at you. Potential flatmates should know the worst about each other.
How did you know about Afghanistan?
Want to jump for joy. Decidedly do not answer. How interested are you? Allow myself a small smirk as I turn to pick up my phone. Share the details of the flat. Make to leave.
Is that it?
Oh, you are so very interested. I turn.
Is that what?
We’ve only just met, and we’re going to go look at a flat.
Oh, I really want to smile now. God, you’re wonderful. I look at Mike. What have I done to deserve this? Thank you, thank you, thank you.
Problem?
Your turn to smile now. My stomach does a flip. Strange.
We don’t know a thing about each other.
I don’t know where we’re meeting.
I don’t even know your name.
I gear up to give you the full attack. Showing off, that’s what Mycroft would call it.
It’s what you call it now, when you want to tease me about it.
Sometimes I wish I couldn’t do what I do. That you could tell me your past.
But I did, and I do. It’s written all over you.
Putting my number into your phone, a brave move easily denied.
January 29th 2010, one for the history books.
I step out of the lab, walk down the corridor, round the corner and near collapse against the wall. Did I wink?
What the hell was that?