Note: This fic was written for my sister who likes short stories. This is also my first Johnlock fic and I wanted it to be short. There is no kissing and stuff in this; it has
several sequels(The Experiment at 221B, The Intrusion in the Bathroom and I haven't named the others yet). I plan to publish those too later.
Enjoy!
John checked the text again.
Meet me at Angelo's. 07pm
SH.
Sherlock was late. Sherlock was never late; he was punctual. But then again, he wasn't himself lately.
John kept checking the door and asking the waiter if Sherlock has left any messages. Nothing. But he was going to wait; wait as long as it took, because the
situation was critical and he was worried sick for Sherlock. John couldn't figure out why Sherlock was doing this, what could have possibly happen? Even Lestrade
texting him about a new case that they couldn't solve and needed his advice on didn't make him come out.
After about forty-five minutes of waiting, Sherlock finally showed up. John's jaw dropped when he saw the man entering the restaurant. He was even paler, his
cheekbones had come out double the size, his long coat seemed to have gulped his lanky figure and his hair was messy. Sherlock was untidy when it came to keeping
his cigarettes or his papers and documents; he never kept any of these on the right spot; his cigarettes found their place on the front side of a Persian sandal, his
papers and document were always scattered on the floor or piled up in the corner that made it hard to walk around the living room sometimes; but he was himself very
presentable all the time, he was properly dressed and his hair was, though curly, always decently set. If John didn't know any better, he'd say Sherlock was on drugs
again.
Sherlock came round the table where John was sitting and seated himself. He looked up at John with his tired, weary eyes and said in his prompt way, "'Evening,
John."
So casual was his way of greeting that it took John by surprise and for a moment it had made him feel that everything was okay just like before.
"'Evening'? You go into hiding for a week and you say "evening"?!" John said, trying to keep his voice down so it wouldn't attract people's attention.
"Do you want to eat?" Sherlock said, again casually, ignoring John's vexation completely.
"THE HELL WITH EATING!" John's angry voice managed to make some people look at them with questioning eyes this time.
"Shhh." Sherlock hushed him like he always did.
"Are you gonna tell me where you were. We've all been so worried for Christ's sake!"
"'We'?"
"Yes, Mrs. Hudson, Lestrade...everyone."
"And you?"
John paused for a moment and then said, "Yes of course I was worried too. We tried to reach you so many times, though we knew it was impossible for us to find the
great detective Sherlock Holmes in London if he didn't want to be found." John mimicked which amused Sherlock.
"I'm flattered."
"Mycroft seemed to know where you were but didn't look like he would tell us."
Sherlock looked down on the table, his smile fading; he didn't know what to say next.
"So are you gonna tell me where you were?" John finally said, breaking the silence.
"On a case."
"And you needed to hide for that?"
"I needed to think." Sherlock said still looking down at the table. He couldn't bring himself to look at John.
"And you couldn't do the thinking here, like you always do, shutting yourself in your bedroom or playing your violin?"
Sherlock shook his head slowly. A sudden thought struck John, making him more anxious than he was before. "Have you eaten
at all these days?"
"You know what I am like while on a case." he looked up finally.
"So what case could make you go into hiding? Lestrade said you're not in one of his cases."
"I'm not."
"Then whose case are you on?"
"My own."
"Wait, what? What are you saying?"
"John, the girl you are dating-"
"Jeanette." John reminded him.
"Jeanette, yes, I know it's none of my business and I didn't want to interfere which is why I didn't say anything earlier but I think you have the right to know that she
has lied to you. She wasn't only engaged to another man, she has been married for two years, split up few months ago, that is when she met you and decided to
divorce her husband."
"WHAT?! Oh my god, I need a moment to process this."
"Oh do relax; you weren't going to marry her anyway."
"Well, that's the problem."
Sherlock chuckled.
"Don't laugh, I'm serious." John said, laughing himself. They both giggled and then John said, "I hope this wasn't the case you were talking about."
"A part of it. John, I've done a survey which shows that the all four women that you've dated since you moved in with me, you haven't taken any of them seriously."
"You went into hiding on a case to survey my girlfriend history?" John said sarcastically.
"Not really, no. I went because I needed to be alone, to find some answer about myself.
"Which includes me?"
"Yes."
"Go on then"
"Yes, I will." Sherlock hesitated for a bit. Sherlock looked down at his crossed hand on the table and continued, "John, I've thought over this matter for a very long time
now and had decided it would be best to tell you everything and make a clean breast of it. Although, I did have second thoughts just before I left for the restaurant,
which caused the delay, and thought it wouldn't be such a good idea to burden you with this matter or you might bear a negative thought about it which would be..."
"Are you trying to say you like me?" John said promptly, cutting him off.
Sherlock jerked his head up, his eyebrows knitted. For a moment his mouth opened but no words came out, except for a weird quake which sounded like 'how'. Then
he closed his mouth again, looked away for a bit with his fingertips together under his chin.
"Like, 'like me' like me?" John asked again, urging him to answer.
"Y-yes." Sherlock stammered. "Though that's not the way I'd put it-"
"Shut up." John cut him off again, raising a finger, which made Sherlock hesitate.
They looked at each other after a moment of awkward silence and burst simultaneously into an
uncontrollable fit of laughter.
"Will you be coming back to the flat again?" John asked when they got hold of themselves.
"Of course! If you don't feel otherwise." Sherlock smiled his charming smile; that smile, John loved so much, and John smiled back.
"Dinner?"
"Starving."