This happened because of a picture on tumblr of a sign outside of a cafe and someone put a prompt up with the picture to write a fic. So I did it, I hope you like it.
What I wrote on the board in the story is what was on the board in the picture that prompted this fic. Here is a link to the picture- . /tumblr_mbevvfUw0O1qduyeio1_
Please comment I appreciate the feedback. :)
The café smelled overwhelmingly of roasting coffee and sweets and pastries being baked. Sherlock sighed as he listened to some prat rattle off a ridiculously complex drink, no one could just order a black coffee could they? No. Instead he was making another pretentious drink that was filled with nearly a day's worth of calories; one could hardly call it a drink really.
He had to take a job at Java Hut this summer if he wanted to be able to visit Mycroft in London. His brother had insisted that he learned how to earn his own money, said it would do him some good. Sherlock was convinced he was paying him back for telling mummy about where the last slice of cake went when she was Mycroft had been lying so well about his diet during his last visit home. Still it was nice to have his own spending money, he secretly bought cigarettes with them and Mycroft secretly pretended not to smell it on him when he came home to the flat each night.
Right now Sherlock was stuck in the middle of a shift that seemed endless and for whatever reason today a lot of the boys from the local university kept leaving their numbers with him. Sherlock had of course tossed them all away after giving a faux polite and confused smile and they went on their way. At least his tips were good today, that was something. His co-workers seemed to be pleased with themselves for some reason whenever someone had hit on Sherlock during the day and he was doing his best to ignore their idiotic grins and giggles. The time was dragging on but as his eyes darted to the clock he was thrilled to see that he only had two minutes until his break. Doing little to stifle an exasperated groan when a blonde young man that looked a few years older than himself came up to the counter and offered a seemingly genuine smile.
"Welcome to the Java Hut." He said a bit monotone after having to repeat the same greeting for the five-hundredth time today.
Bracing himself for yet another ridiculously complicated order he asked. "How may I help you today?" Still slightly monotone as he saw the customer looking the menu over as if he were unsure what he wanted.
John had been up early all day, he was taking summer courses at Saint Bart's trying to cram in all the studying he could before he was to deploy at the end of the year. He saw the coffee shop and came in for a quick caffeine fix. Outside of the café he had noticed a sandwich board with a little chalk message written on it. 'Today your Barista is: 1. Hella fucking gay 2. Desperately single. For your drink today I suggest: you give me your number'. Beside the message was a tall stick figure with a mop of curly hair doodled atop it. He gave the sign a peculiar look and then decided it was best to ignore it, head inside of the café. He went to the counter and looked up to the menu, his eyes reading carefully. Most of the terms were ones that made no sense to him, what in the hell was a 'macchiato'?
When the svelte, tall worker with inky-curly hair behind the counter asked him how he could help him John kept searching the menu for a moment before meeting the younger man's eyes. Thinking to himself that this must be the person who was drawn onto the board out front, which was a bit of an awkward thought. "Um… right, this might sound ridiculous but do you guys have just coffee, like black coffee?"
Sherlock couldn't help but grin in disbelief, someone in London still had sense enough to enjoy a simple coffee, it was nothing short of a miracle. "Yes, of course we have black coffee." He nodded.
"Good, alright I'll take…what the hell is a venti? Is that large?" John asked as he tried to figure out how to order.
Sherlock could see that the man across from him was uncomfortable in the café, out of place, no ounce of pretentiousness in him. "Yes, venti is large." He nodded again, his grin grew.
"Okay a black coffee, venti then. No chance you guys have just plain glazed donuts?" John asked seeing that the barista seemed to warm up a little bit for some unknown reason.
"We do, they are a day old and stale. I wouldn't recommend them." Sherlock shrugged.
John was about to ask him what he would recommend when he remembered the board outside and just gave him a short nod. "Right, just the coffee then,"
Sherlock turned quickly to grab a Styrofoam cup, filling it with hot deeply roasted Brazilian coffee, that was as plain as it came in the café. As he was pouring John noticed that the barista didn't seem to be flamboyant or desperate for male attention as the board suggested, if anything he seemed to want to get the order done as quickly as he could and not talk at all. John also noticed that there was another young man working and a young woman as well watching intently and he put the pieces together. They must have written the board about this worker, the stick figure had his curls and he was working the front of the store while they seemed to be doing a whole lot of nothing.
Sherlock placed the coffee down on the counter. "That will be two pounds, fifty pence…please." He had managed to remember to be polite which was surprising.
John nodded meeting his eyes and thinking that the worker was cute, he had nice eyes, he wouldn't be desperate for attention if he wanted it. The board was most definitely some sort of cruel joke and he was not one to let things like that stand by. He started to fish his wallet out of his trouser pocket and cleared his throat hesitantly. "So the specials board out front…could you tell me more about that?" he asked not wanting to outright ask if it was a joke, being cautious about it because he was not one to judge if it were serious and he had been mistaken.
"I'm not sure what the special is today, if I knew what it was I have deleted it." Sherlock shrugged knowing that he was supposed to care more about these things while he worked here but he couldn't be bothered.
"Right, um…well. You wouldn't want my number would you?" he asked, fishing again cautiously before he said anything outright, placing his money on the counter.
Sherlock cocked one eyebrow looking John over, a bit flustered by the question for some reason. "No, I'm flattered but I'm not in the habit of collecting stranger's phone numbers." This was true despite the fact that several people had felt the need to give him their number today, something he still had not made sense of.
John grimaced, there was no mistaking it, and the board was some sort of bullying prank. "I only asked because well, the board outside, the special board. Well it um…it implied that you were looking for stranger's phone numbers." As he said this he put a five pound note into the tip jar, feeling tremendously guilty about something that he had nothing to do with, feeling badly for the young man behind the counter.
Sherlock put the money in the register and again offered the customer a confused look. "That's absurd." He said, taking his apron off, it was his break now anyhow. He headed out to the store front and John followed him out. The look of horror on Sherlock's face was vivid when he saw the stick figure, doing his best to smooth his expression back out as he took one broad hand and began to smear the board to erase the doodle and the writing.
John looked back into the café and the two workers still at the counter were in fits of giggles and he sent them a glare before turning to Sherlock. Sherlock kicked the board over so it fell on its side before pulling out his cigarettes and lighting one, his head shaking. In all honesty he knew pranks like this one should go ignored, people were assholes but it was humiliating and it hurt even if he wouldn't admit that much out loud.
John stood there unsure what to do but he didn't want to leave the barista alone, taking a sip from his coffee as he kept his opinions about the cigarette to himself. "Sorry about that." He finally said a moment later.
"Did you draw it?" Sherlock asked a bit aggressively, knowing of course that John had not.
"What? No, no. Of course not." John answered firmly.
Sherlock met his eyes and then looked away an instant later. "Then you have nothing to be sorry about."
John felt one corner of his mouth turning upwards into a small smirk, the younger man at least seemed to be rational even if it had been a rather unkind thing to happen to him. "Well still, I'm sorry for those idiots."
"They are idiots." Sherlock confirmed. "They think anyone who isn't chronically lip-locked with another is living a meaningless life. They've been dating two months, broken up three times already and she's pregnant, doesn't know it yet…I might just tell her."
John laughed softly and shrugged. "Would serve her right."
Sherlock took a long drag from his cigarette and released a puff of smoke as he calmed himself. "Thanks. For telling me about it, the sign I mean."
John shook his head to say that he did not need to be thanked. "Any decent person would have."
"You're wrong." Sherlock shook his head as well taking another drag. "I've gotten no less than two dozen phone numbers today and I had no idea why."
"Any one interesting at least?" John asked trying to put a bright spin on this.
Sherlock laughed this time. "No." Leaving out a thought that followed about how he found the shorter man interesting right in this moment as he sipped his black coffee and was seemingly kind and not an idiot, so far at least.
"Too bad," John shrugged as he loomed outside the café with the barista. His eyes flicking over his name tag. "Sherlock, interesting name. I'm John." He extended his hand, not entirely certain why he was compelled to have a conversation with this particular stranger.
Sherlock looked to his hand and hesitated for a moment before extending his own. The man had been friendly, told him about the sign and tipped him well even though he had ordered a simple coffee. "Nice to meet you John," he offered a fraction of a smile as he inhaled a bit more smoke. "So you're a medical student?"
John wanted to ask him how he knew that but the café was close to Saint Bart's and he had been carrying a backpack, not exactly a stretch that he would be a medical student. "Yes. In my second year now," he explained drinking a grateful sip of the coffee in his hand.
Sherlock put out his cigarette and knew that his break was going to be over in a moment. "Thank you again for telling me about the sign John. I've got to get back to work." He didn't want to go back inside to work and not only because it meant that he would have to be in close proximity to the morons that were his co-workers once more. John was interesting to him, clearly bright if he was a medical student and apparently kind enough to intervene and help out a total stranger.
John nodded and gave him an understanding sort of expression. "Sorry, I didn't mean to chat through your break. Just…ignore those two, the signs gone now."
Sherlock shrugged as if to say that he did not mind talking to John even if it was his only break during the shift. "I will." He agreed to ignore them.
"Thanks for the coffee." John smiled as Sherlock headed inside again. He headed home, feeling a good caffeine buzz kicking in already and making a mental note of where the Java hut was. The coffee was good after all but in truth that would not be the reason why he returned to the little café tomorrow after class.