You could feel his eyes survey you. They started from the highest flyaway and ended at the lowest point on your shoes. There was no doubt he deduced your life story in a blink of an eye.
"Boring." The tall man with dark curls turned away.
"I agree," You paused, increasing suspense, or trying to. "Sherlock Holmes."
You weren't quite sure he heard you, you saw no clear signs of recognition, and Sherlocks disinterest in playing along bored you.
You turned around and walked to the store, where you were supposed to be ten minutes ago. Honestly, The sight of the famous detective stunned you. You had always been quite smitten for him, even though you know he is incapable of any human relationship. Still, You thought he would have been more fun.
The store blurred together, your mind still hooked on the disappointment. You heard a few girls in the dark area of the milk isle giggling about Sherlock. You swear you could hear one say something about taking to Holmes about one of his cases. You can't help but be furious. And a little jealous, maybe. So Sherlock talks to them, but not you? Outrageous.
You block out the world by placing your earphones in, and turning on the loudest song on your playlist, Anything to keep the jealously/anger from corrupting your mind any longer.
The moment you step in the line, you realize you forgot to pick up the milk. Damn those girls. You take out an earbud, and smile apologetically at the cashier.
"I.." You stutter, blushing a little. "I forgot to get the milk.. Can I go back and get it?" You laugh a little trying to lighten the situation, but the lady behind the cash register was not having any of your shit today. She rolled her eyes, and smacked the three packets of gum that she was able to fit into her mouth.
"We already scanned half your items, Ma'am." The cashiers insincere smile spread across her face as she spoke like a plague. "You'd be holding up the whole line."
"But I-" You start, anger filling up. You could feel your face getting red, before a milk is passed right in front of her face and handed to the cashier.
"Here." A mans voice blows against your ear. You turn around, slowly, dramatically. In times like these, it felt like your life was a movie.
A shorter, blonde gentleman stuck his hand out after letting go of the milk.
"John Watson.." You say as a whisper.
"Ah. No. This is when you say your name. Not mine." He smiled, as you took his hand, and shook it.
"Ah. Right. I'm (y/n)."
"It's a pleasure to meet you."
"Agreed, Mr. Watson." You blush a little, messing with the hair on the back of your head. "Thanks.. For the uh.. Help."
"No problem." He lets go of your hand, but continues smiling. "But .." His smile turned devious. "As payment, you must come have tea with me."
You nodded, a little too enthusiastically. Keep cool. Breath.
You find yourself walking next to the amazing John Watson and yet, you can barely find anything to say. The walk felt a little silent, awkward-ish.
"I actually ran into Sherlock today as well." You tried at a lame attempt in starting a conversation, and it worked.
John laughed for a second, before turning to you. "Does that mean you don't want to go to 221B Baker Street?"
"Flat mates.. Right. I remember." You said pretending like you didn't already realize you were walking to Sherlock at this very moment.
"You admire him, don't you?" John said looking down slightly, giving him the cutest dimple. "Sherlock, that is.."
You pause for a moment, taken off guard by the sudden, more personal question.
"Well, You do too." Is all you could think of in the moment. And the response was quite simple. John nodded, offering to take you bags, as you walked in a comfortable silence to 221B.
You can see the crooked knocker as soon as you turned onto his street. You could smell Mrs. Hudson's tea. You could hear Sherlocks violin.
You were an avid reader of Johns blog, and even though you had never told anyone. There were now three people who knew.
You.
John.
And Sherlock.
You felt your face get red as your secret spilled further. Once two people know, there is no stopping it. Droplets will always make a hurricane, eventually.
You regretted the moment you stepped into the house, and turned to John immediately.
You whisper, even though there were no signs of others.
"I.. " You said, remembering your run in with Sherlock this morning. "I don't think tea here is a good idea."
You looked John in his eyes, his mouth empty of words, as he nods.
"I'll give you my number, just give me a second." You turn quickly, placing your purse on the nearest counter as you sifted through it.
"John? Is that you?" You heard the voice from up stairs, and you squeezed your eyes shut. "And.." He paused, but you already knew what was coming next.
"And that girl.. From the street outside the supermarket?"