On the Side

by gertie-flirty

Burton Guster meets up with somebody who he shares a common interest with. It's not always easy being second banana. One shot, complete.

On the Side

By gertie_flirty

Summary: Burton Guster meets up with somebody who he shares a common interest with. It's not always easy being second banana.

A/N: This was written as a Christmas gift for my wonderful fiancé, Joe. Merry Christmas!

~x.~x. ~x.~x. ~x.~x. ~x.~x, ~x.~x. ~x.~x.

"So, I was watching the Disney animated classic Cinderella—"

"Why were you watching Cinderella?"

"I admire the production values. Also, single tear every time I hear 'A Dream is a Wish Your Heart Makes.' Anyway, watching Cinderella, and I decided that I will change my name to Jacques, and you will be henceforth known as Gus-Gus."

"I don't want to be nicknamed after an overweight mouse, Shawn."

"Really? All the horrible aliases I've given you over the years and the one you draw the line at is 'Gus-Gus?'"

"A man has to have his standards."

Shawn shrugged and turned back to the television in the office. Gus typed away furiously at his computer. "Dude, what are you doing over there? Is it cybersex? Please tell me it's cybersex. That would be so interesting."

"It's not cybersex, Shawn. I have a pen-pal in England who's coming to Santa Barbara for vacation tomorrow. I offered to let him stay with me."

"You're letting some strange English bloke camp out in your house? What if wants to . . . bugger you?"

Gus snorted. "This guy is sort of famous on the internet. He's a war vet with a popular blog where he talks about his adventures with a world-famous detective."

"World famous detective?" Shawn said. "Is he smarter than me?"

"Yes."

Shawn pouted. "So what's your pen-pal's name, anyway?"

"Watson," said Gus. "Dr. John Watson."

There was a long, heavy pause.

"Dude, what was with the 'Bond, James Bond' intro?"

"He's British, Shawn. That's how you always introduce them."

"Fair enough."

~x.~x. ~x.~x. ~x.~x. ~x.~x, ~x.~x. ~x.~x.

"What are you still doing here?" Gus asked Shawn, pacing around the apartment nervously, making sure everything was in place.

"I gotta meet this Watson guy. I didn't know you had friends besides me."

Gus rolled his eyes. "All right, you can meet him, but then we're going out."

"Oh, can we go to Fuddrucker's? It's been ages since I've had a ridiculously large hamburger."

"No, Shawn. Me and John are going out. You're staying home."

"Fine. I guess I can go on a date with Jules or something."

"That would be the healthy thing to do."

There was a knock on the door, and Shawn and Gus raced to it, pushing and slapping each other on the way. With a final shove, Gus pushed Shawn forcefully away and smoothed his shirt before opening the door wide.

"Gus?"

"John! Good to finally meet you!" Gus shook hands with the man in the doorway and showed him inside.

"Wait, I'm having a vision!" Shawn put his fingers to his temples. "You had a 3 layovers, the last being in Ohio. You also have a sibling you're estranged from, and a male roommate who is trying to quit smoking." Shawn smiled and clapped his hands together. "I bet you're wondering how I did that, see—"

"Not really," interrupted John. "I'm kind of used to it."

Shawn blinked in confusion.

"Shawn Spencer, John Watson. John Watson, Shawn Spencer. Shawn was just leaving, bye Shawn," Gus said all this rather quickly, shoving his friend out the door.

Shawn stuck his head back in, protesting. "But I didn't get to tell him—"

"Bye Shawn." Gus slammed the door.

It popped open again, and Shawn's head said, "I'm a—"

SLAM.

"Well known—"

SLAM.

"Highly trusted—"

SLAM.

"Psychic."

A final slam, and this time Gus deadbolted the door.

"Is your friend really psychic?" John asked.

"Let's say yes." Gus replied. "Now, let's put your stuff away, and then we can go out to dinner."

"Sure. Can we go to Fuddruckers? Everyone said when I go to America, I had to go to Fuddruckers."

Gus sighed deeply, but reluctantly smiled. "Sure. Fuddruckers it is."

~x.~x. ~x.~x. ~x.~x. ~x.~x, ~x.~x. ~x.~x.

"This burger is the size of my head," John said gleefully. "And I'm glad you were there to translate, the counter girl looked at me like I was mad when I asked for 'chips.'"

Gus spun a French fry between two fingers lazily. "No problem. So, tell me what your work is like. Is Sherlock Holmes really that brilliant?"

"Yes, unfortunately. Not to mention, he notices everything. You can't have the smallest spot of ink on your cuff before he makes a fifteen minute monologue on how it came to be there."

"Shawn's the same way. And he showboats constantly."

"Yes! In front of the police, no less!"

"Exactly! He just has to prove he's smarter than everyone!"

The two men burst into laughter. After calming down, John said, "So, Gus, what do you do for fun here in sunny California? London is so gray."

"Oh, I'd love to go to London. I hear they have a perfect collection of Heimlich safes that are said to be uncrackable."

"That's right, I forgot you like safe-cracking. Do you have any other strange hobbies?"

Gus grinned. "Like you wouldn't believe."

~x.~x. ~x.~x. ~x.~x. ~x.~x, ~x.~x. ~x.~x.

Gus took John to the local comic book store. John turned out to be pretty knowledgeable about the various superheroes. When stationed in Afghanistan, he had a lot of down time and had whittled the days away by engrossing himself in the various trade paperbacks and ongoings sent by the other soldiers' families.

Both Gus and John were fans of Robin, the boy wonder, and Bucky Barnes, Captain America's best friend. Both had started out as sidekicks and become heroes in their own right.

"You know what I'm not fond of?" John asked, flipping through the pages of the latest issue of Batman Beyond. "When Robin becomes the villain."

"Exactly," said Gus. "I hate that writers feel all sidekicks have this inferiority complex that will inevitably turn them to evil."

John nodded, rubbing his chin. "It's preposterous."

"Ridiculous."

"Absurd."

A long, long silence fell over both men. They shared a brief glance, then looked away uncomfortably.

"I'm not evil—"

"I'm not evil either—"

"I never said—"

"Well, I never said—"

They laughed nervously. Clearing his throat, John said, "Let's go to the movie."

"Sure."

~x.~x. ~x.~x. ~x.~x. ~x.~x, ~x.~x. ~x.~x.

"You know," said John as they left the theater, "It was kind of enjoyable seeing a movie without someone pointing out the logical fallacies in the plot every other minute."

"Or someone cracking jokes like an unfunny robot from MST3K," added Gus, throwing his cup into the trash can outside the theater door.

"I'm sorry, what?"

"Don't worry about it." Gus clapped the other man on the back. "You know, I bet we could solve a mystery all on our own."

"Absolutely! We're two intelligent, intuitive men, with skill of our own. We should start offering our services to the police."

"Yes!" agreed Gus. "Those guys, they're not so great. We could be great crime-solvers."

"They would write books about us!"

"And movies!"

"We'd be famous!"

They walked along, grinning ear to ear.

~x.~x. ~x.~x. ~x.~x. ~x.~x, ~x.~x. ~x.~x.

Strolling along the sidewalk, the pair licked at their newly acquired ice cream cones happily.

"It's not often I eat ice cream in December," remarked John.

"Welcome to sunny California," replied Gus.

Ahead, a police siren let a single crisp wail. They jogged a few blocks until they came across a crime scene marked with yellow caution tape, surrounded by various police officers. Through the crowd, Gus could make out the shape of a body lying on the ground.

"Looks like somebody was killed," Gus said.

"We could go help."

"Solve the mystery."

"All on our own."

"Or we could turn around."

"Run away."

"Let's do that."

The two spun in unison and ran in the opposite direction.

~x.~x. ~x.~x. ~x.~x. ~x.~x, ~x.~x. ~x.~x.

"So how was your trip?" Sherlock looked up from the book he was reading as John entered the flat, carrying his luggage.

"Wonderful. I almost solved a mystery."

"Almost?"

"Well, my friend and I decided crime-solving is best left to the professionals."

"Ah. Except in England, where the professionals are woefully inadequate."

"I don't think they're that different in America—"

"What was the name of the man you were visiting?"

"Er, Burton Guster."

"Guster?" Sherlock dropped his book in surprise. "Does he work with a Shawn Spencer?"

"Yes, how did—" John sighed. "I'm not going to ask how you knew, you always know. But why do you care?"

"He owes me a favor." Sherlock leapt to his feet. "Come, John. We have to go to California."

"But I was just—you know, I don't think he's ever even heard of you—"

"Exactly." Sherlock grinned. "And that's why he owes me a favor. Now, let's go!"

John sighed, but smiled wistfully. He was looking forward to seeing Sherlock and Shawn interact with each other.

More importantly, he was glad he had been able to spend time with Gus before it could be ruined. For the first time in a very long time, he had felt understood. And sometimes that's all someone needs.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxx

The End

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