John had been sitting in the park for the best part if two hours now...two BLOODY hours, and Sherlock still hadn't turned up. He was on the verge of screaming, or crying, or bloody well fucking off out of the park.
It really wasn't the best place for a grown man to be hanging around for any extended period of time anyway, not without a kid to give him an excuse. Because this wasn't just any park - no, this was a kids' playground. Why Sherlock had wanted him to meet him there he didn't know, but people were starting to give him funny looks.
Oh, God, what should he do?
They would think he was just there to watch the kiddies. They'd think he was a creep...A predator.. Oh, God. What should he do? Someone would call the police and he'd get arrested and then there'd be such an embarrassing court case and Harry would never let him live it down and he'd lose his job and everything. Oh, God -
A hand clamped down on John's shoulder, sending lightning bolts of panic through him. He leapt off the bench several feet into the air, flinging his hands up in surrender, yelling at the top of his little lungs,
"I AM NOT A PAEDOPHILE!"
The face of a frowning Lestrade came into view, "Are you feeling quite alright, John?"