Her name was Holly.
John was on his shift, waiting for another patient. A commotion down the hall caught his eye. A young lady, presumably in her mid to late twenties strode down the hall in a darkly colored suit. The two men trailing behind her were observing her every move, but why would they do that?
Oh, they thought this lady was crazy, bonkers, lost her marbles. He recognized the men behind her; they had met several times in passing. They were Herod and Charles Manning, who acted as the 'muscle guys' of the hospital.
"Hello" John called in passing. The men seemed relieved to have an excuse to talk to someone.
"Oh, good day John." Charles started.
"Yeah, good day." Herod echoed.
"Who've you got there?" John inquired, staring at the dark haired, tall, pale girl now standing at their right.
Before the brothers could answer, the women herself butted in. "How is your shoulder, getting plenty of exercise I see?"
John thought of this question in passing, "For me, it's been a little over two years of hard work, and not very much play."
"Well, that's evident judging by the position you play in the hospital. Minor, but easy enough to get out of, especially with your girlfriend helping out."
Then John realized, he wasn't talking to Sherlock, but an entirely different person. "How did you figure that out? The only person I know that can do that kind of deducing is my friend.
The doctor could see the ideas flicking through her mind. "Oh, so you're John Watson, and your friend is Sherlock Holmes. Nice to meet you, I'd love to meet Sherlock sometime. I know this fantastic restaurant, Angelo's it's called. Heard of it?"
John was confused, repeated himself. "How did you figure all that stuff out?"
The girl smirked. "Judging by the way you are slouching, you have a pain in your shoulder and it was made by an impact. If you care to notice the now faint tan lines on only your hands and wrists you must have been on duty somewhere sunny, Iraq or Afghanistan. Of course, you are slouching which must mean fatigue from running or exercising of as sort, but the strengths are not equal, so not in a gym. Therefore, you must have been doing something outside of work, something very consistent."
The girl took a breath before continuing. "That may be the end of most deductions, but I can see the dual stains on the sleeves, dipped into some sort of sauce, like you reached over the table, but the cuffs accidentally trailed in your food. The sauce has a signature green/blue coloring; it is exactly the same as the one used in Angelo's secret sauce. Of course if you add up all of the facts, it is fairly easy to guess that you are Doctor John Watson. Further proof lies in the fact that Charles called you John. Nice to meet you, I read your flatmate's website.
She held out her hand to shake. "Holly Sherder."
John was supposed to be used to this by now. He took her hand, and looked her in the eyes, shaking it firmly.
"We're about to take her to the mental ward, to see what's wrong with her." Herod added.
John shook his head. "No, she's fine. Her brain works perfectly well, maybe even a bit better than that. Trust me; this isn't a condition, at least not medically."
"Well, if you're sure. Holly, I guess you're released." She smirked and started walking back down the corridor.
"And John, meet me at Angelo's at let's say 10? I know Sherlock works you late, I'd be nice to get a day off." Holly shut the door firmly.
She certainly was a sight, John thought. Her dark, curly hair contrasting with porcelain skin. John made a silent note of the date, then decided that he needed a nap in order to look presentable later.
The two brothers had moseyed off by then, John sitting alone in a deserted, white corridor. Before he knew it, he was facing his front door. Fumbling with the keys, John opened the door, trudging up the steps. To be expected, Sherlock was waiting on the couch. John ignored him and started up the stairs for the bedroom.
"John?" John sighed, he didn't need this now.
"Yes Sherlock?"
"When are you planning on getting up? We need to be able to see the site at night, see how the shadows show up using only the streetlamps light. And before you ask John, I do need you along."
"Sherlock, I'm putting my foot down on this one, I want to have a nice night at Angelo's without you. I have reservations at 10, and you are not coming."
Sherlock's tone changed. "Is it a date? How could I not see this, I didn't sense any perfume or traces of discomfort. You don't even seem to be embarrassed by the fact that I now know."
"Sherlock, I am not embarrassed, I am excited—"
"You're testosterone levels are at normal."
"I frankly don't care. You are invited to come as long as you stay out of my sight. I will allow you to express your dislike for her after the date is over, and she has entered her flat."
Sherlock seemed taken aback. How did he notice all of the times he…
He soon concluded he hadn't been very discreet about his dislikes and self-invitations to events that John was going to be in the presence of a lady friend.
"You can go; I'll just study the shadows on my own." Sherlock promptly laid back down on the couch, losing himself in his thoughts as he ventured in his mind palace.
What John didn't know about his mind palace is that there was a separate building deemed the guest house. The guest house was full of thoughts about John, a guest in his mind; this offered a getaway from the crimes, the boredom, all of the three-patch-problems.
Sherlock rifled through his imaginary file cabinets full of signs of attraction, trying to match up at least one with the way John was acting at the moment. Sherlock couldn't find any. That brought him to three conclusions. Either he didn't know the person very well, but had trust in this figure. He also could have no clue and is trying to see if there's a metaphorical spark. Unfortunately, there could be another option, John could have met her before, already fell completely love, and knows that there is no way that their relationship could be more understanding or loving then it already is.
Sherlock immediately scrapped the first thought, feeling quite possessive at this point. John was not allowed to love another, certainly not to the point where he could be thinking about leaving. That could never happen, Sherlock wanted to make sure of it.
That thought kept popping up, as much as Sherlock tried to suppress it. "John? John, are you still asleep? Sherlock did not know how much time had passed.
The time was 11:27; John was due to be returning in less than fifteen minutes, judging by the post-it on the coffee table next to his arm.
Sherlock was upset. He had missed it. He missed the one chance to see the woman who held his John's attention. Sherlock reprimanded himself for not catching the chance to observe the velocity of the situation. Footsteps soon thundered up from the front door, John. How to act natural, Sherlock had thirteen seconds to get in a position that made him look natural.
Sleep! Sherlock didn't actually have to be sleeping, of course, but it would be natural and make John at ease. Yes, that was it.
Sherlock folded himself up into himself, knees folded, hands slung over his chest. Most onlookers may coo at the sight of a sleeping Sherlock, the daily wear relaxing into a blank canvas.
John opened the door, resting for a moment, doing an obligatory scan of his surroundings. The room wasn't any messier than when he left and Sherlock was sleeping. Wait, Sherlock was sleeping?
John relaxed into his armchair, staring at the sleeping form of his comrade. Sherlock looked beautiful when he slept; face clear of any signs of stress. The date hadn't gone well; he kept imagining Sherlock in her place. He couldn't date his flatmate's female duplicate, it felt unreal.
If he wanted a relationship with Sherlock, he wanted a relationship with Sherlock, not a female clone of him. John suddenly became conscious of his thought. Did he want to pursue a relationship with his flatmate? He knew he wasn't gay, but from a non-linear, non-subjective kind of view, it may be attraction.
It may also be something more. He definitely was attracted with Holly, and wanted to pursue a relationship with her, a long one, maybe ending in marriage. But he kept seeing his friend replacing the girl across the table.
John wasn't one to skirt around a question. Did he want Sherlock? God Yes.
What was he going to do about it? Nothing.
Nothing, at least while he was awake. Asleep however, that could be different.
John got up from where he sat, walked over to someone, he decided, he loved and whispered one sentences in his ear. "Her name was Holly, and she helped me realize that I love you."
Sherlock smiled the moment John turned his head, because his thoughts had offered him a similar conclusion. When he awoke (did he fall asleep?), Sherlock invited John on a date. Well, not a date per say, but on a case.
Many people think that the two are dating in secret, but the truth is that their dates include bloody murder and a whole lot of deducing.
A/N:
This is a train of thought that somehow made it into a story. I love Jealous!Sherlock, but have no idea how to write him, so allow some OOC on my part.
What did you think of my deducing from Holly's point of view? (I kind of chose her name because it sounded a bit like Holmes.) Review telling me what you liked, or if you're too lazy, just write 'cool story bro, tell it again' or something like that. I love any and all feedback.
DFTBA,
MC (Trust Her She's Weird)