John made his way to the pub down Baker Street after a particularly tiring day at the clinic. It also didn't help that today was exactly a year after John lost Sherlock at Reichenbach, so it was appropriate to be thinking a little bit more about the consulting detective. They say the proper amount of time to mourn the loss of a friend is a year, to experience birthdays and holidays without them, but it seemed the anniversary only strengthened the mellow feelings John had begun to experience related to the loss of Sherlock. Tonight, John had thought it appropriate to go out instead of being alone at the flat on Baker Street. John hadn't had it in him to leave Baker Street after losing Sherlock, even though leaving might help John forget him quicker. Mycroft had sent John some money as compensation for the rent, so he needn't find a flat cheaper. To be fair to himself, he had adequately pushed Sherlock to the back of his mind, though John never adapted to civilian life in the year between Reichenbach and now, without the crime scenes and the chases.
John entered the pub and sat down at the bar, being promptly greeted by a strange, new, and unusually familiar face. "Where's Aris tonight?" John questioned the whereabouts of his regular acquainted bartender.
"Oh, she was able to leave for her study abroad programme earlier than she thought" answered her replacement.
"Oh, I knew she was doing an abroad programme, but not so soon. She was bartending to help pay for it."
"Apparently she won a scholarship, so the money she had saved up already plus the scholarship was enough. I'm her replacement for now."
"I-I really liked her," John began to stutter, realizing that his tone might have upset the new bartender across from his habitually frequented seat, "Not that I have anything against you, it's just that she helped me get through sort of a rough patch a while back."
"What happened?" The man queried.
"I don't really feel up to explaining now. Sorry – I don't even know your name. It's not that you don't seem trustworthy, but it really takes me awhile to—"
John found himself interrupted. "I completely understand. I'm entirely new to you. You probably came in here seeking the comfort in a good friend, and it hasn't done you any good to know that she isn't here."
"No, it hasn't, really."
The man standing across from John introduced himself and held his hand out for John to shake, "Hayden Sullivan."
John took his hand, "Nice to meet you, Hayden, though it was displeasing not to see Aris tonight. I'm John Watson." Hayden gave John a small and pleasant smile as they locked eyes for a moment.
John started again, "I meant what I said earlier. You really seem trustworthy—It seems like it's against some bartender code not to be, but it really takes a while for me to trust."
"It's completely fine, John. I didn't become a bartender fully expecting people to open up to me, despite the stereotype."
"My defenses aren't as down as they were with Aris after-." John's eyes took on a distant gaze for a moment before he realized what he was just about to reveal. "Sorry, It's late, I should get going." As John arose from his bar stool, Hayden stopped John from leaving too soon, "I apologize, John."
"You don't have a reason to apologize."
"But I do. You didn't get what you came here for."
"It's fine, really. I'm sure you'll fill in for Aris nicely eventually. Sorry I didn't explain."
"It's quite alright—" But John was already halfway to the door.