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“My God! I had a little hope that you’d try not to expose yourself to the ridiculous,” Sherlock said cockily, but the surprise was evident in his voice.
John was grinning. He was wearing tight, black leather trousers with a white t-shirt equally as form-fitting. His hair was spiked with hair gel. To complete his look, he also wore a leather jacket. He looked like John Travolta in Grease. Sherlock was surprised to find he actually like the look on John, not that he would ever admit it.
“I’m not listening to your insults. Not tonight.”
“Not tonight,” Sherlock repeated, processing the meaning of that phrase, “Right, you’re in a good mood,” Sherlock smiled bitterly, “Those clothes give you the false impression of confidence.”
“Not listening…”
“And you think you might find a good partner for intercourse…”
“Shut up, Sherlock. I’m looking good tonight,” John said with an excited smile and a little bit of 80’s attitude.
“We still have those documents to review, you know,” Sherlock argued.
“Not on a Saturday night, Sherlock. I’m sorry. You’re on your own, because…” John threw his leather jacket out from his body, shoving his hips forward, trying to imitate a cool rock star pose, “The ladies are waiting,” he grinned in a badly forced American accent.
“Please, John, don’t ever do THAT again! It’s absolutely foolish,” Sherlock spat to spite the little shiver that ran down his spine.
“You’re jealous,” John sat down on the couch next to Sherlock.
“I’m sorry, John. Not yet. Try harder.”
They smiled and shared a comfortable silent moment before John spoke.
“You know, I’d like to see you with clothes like these and spiked hair,” John said, staring the ceiling and trying to imagine.
“What for? My clothes are perfectly fine and so is my hair. Why would you want me to change that? You don’t like my hair?”
“Whoa, take it easy! I was just wondering,” John grinned, looking at Sherlock, who seemed concerned about it.
“Why?”
“Nothing, Sherlock. Never mind. It was just a random comment.”
“Ah,” Sherlock voiced noncommittally and turned his attention to his laptop.
“You’re going to spend the entire night on the couch looking at that screen?”
“Yes, John. I have important things to do, not that you would understand that.”
“You should come.”
“Thank you, but I don’t think so,” Sherlock smiled politely
“Yeah, you’re right,” John said as he quickly stood up.
“What do you do?” Sherlock asked rapidly.
“What do I do??” John responded in confusion.
“At parties. What do you do?” Sherlock asked again, catching a glimpse of John’s furrowed brow before turning his attention back to the laptop.
“What do people do at parties? The usual. They drink, chat, and sometimes, they dance,” John replied, still trying to get a bead on Sherlock’s change of subject.
“No. What do you do, John? You’re not ‘people’. I want to know what you do.”
“Oh,” John said. “well, I don’t know…Stuff, Sherlock. I drink. I joke with my friends. Sometimes, I dance.”
“You dance?” Sherlock looked at John.
“Well, I try to dance, mostly when I’m a little pissed,” John chuckled.
“Why?”
“Because I feel like doing it? I don’t know, Sherlock.”
“Oh,” Sherlock said as he closed the lid of his laptop.
“If you’re that curious, maybe you should come along and see for yourself.”
“Thank you, John, but I have no interest in such social gatherings,” Sherlock stood up, straightening his clothes, “Even less if I’d have to dress like that and look like a desperate middle age guy looking for an easy girl to get off with. Ridiculous!”
John stared at him for a few long seconds, his face brightly red with anger and embarrassment. He opened his mouth several times, but no words came out. He looked down at his clothes, smiled bitterly, and walked to his bedroom. Before he disappeared completely, he turned to Sherlock and said with hurt in his voice:
“Sometimes you’re such a jerk.”
Sherlock’s face went blank as John walked out. He repeated the words in his mind over and over again, trying to understand what bothered John so much. He was walking in circles around the sofa table impatiently, because John had been locked in his room for thirty minutes. He decided to check on him, knowing it was almost time for the party.
Sherlock knocked at John’s bedroom door and John yelled a ‘go away’. Sherlock obeyed, walking back to the living room. He sat on the sofa and stared at the ceiling. Something bothered him. He picked up his mobile and typed:
You’re going to be late. SH
Before he could put his mobile on the table again it rang the text alert.
Yeah. JW
Sherlock furrowed his brow, trying to understand what John was trying to say. Was he truly bothered by Sherlock’s comments or just angry at him? He was about to give up when something clicked inside him. He stood up and made his way to the bathroom, closing the door behind him. He grabbed John’s hair gel bottle and tried it in his own hair, frowning at the sticky product. He spiked his hair in the same way John had spiked his. He looked in the mirror and smiled before heading back into the living room.
He waited about fifteen minutes before he heard John’s door unlocking and heavy footsteps coming from the stairs. John was looking at his shoes, clearly avoiding looking at Sherlock. He walked to the coatrack and grabbed his umbrella without throwing a single glance in Sherlock’s direction. Sherlock coughed to get his attention, but John ignored him.
“John…” Sherlock called.
“What?” John said as he turned to look at Sherlock.
When he caught sight of Sherlock’s look, he couldn’t hold the laugh that came from deep in his belly. He looked at his shoes and then back to Sherlock, only to laugh more. Sherlock started to laugh, too.
“You’re such a prat,” John said, catching his breath.
Sherlock only smiled, his fingers playing with the pointy ends of his hair spikes.
“Well, I think this is the closest I’ve ever got to an ‘I’m sorry’,” John announced, “I’ll be back soon. Good night, Sherlock.”
Sherlock only nodded and John left the flat. Sherlock was relieved that John wasn’t mad at him anymore and grabbed his laptop again. Before he started to work on the documents he was reviewing, he picked up his mobile again and texted:
The spiky hair suits you perfectly fine. SH
Sherlock waited two minutes for John’s reply.
I’d say the same, but I like your curls better. JW
Sherlock smiled and typed:
You like my curls? SH
He snuggled himself into the couch and waited for John’s text.
They’re as stubborn as you are. It fits. JW
Sherlock smiled brightly and dropped the mobile on the table. He set his attention back to his work, but not before he messed his hair back to its normal stubborn self.
End.