Title: Lunch Break Coincidences

Pairing: John/Sherlock

Summary: Mike Stamford would never have guessed that he'd play a key role in two peoples' lives. John & Sherlock's first encounter from Mike's POV, pre-slash!

Beta by: Nixie & punchycat

Editing by: TeaLogic

It is a perfectly pleasant day in London, no rain, no snow, and no nasty Siberian wind. Since that's rather unusual for late January I decide to go to the park during my lunch break to get a bit of sun on my face while reading my paper. It seems to be my lucky day because I find an empty bench without having to walk around the park for too long.

I hadn't been sitting there for five minutes when a man hobbles past me. He looks annoyed and tense, his hair is shorter and he is using a cane to walk but I recognize him nevertheless. Hastily, I grab my suitcase in one hand, stand up and call: "John?" But he doesn't stop, so I try again: "John Watson!"

This time he turns around but his look is not one of immediate recognition, so I help him out: "Stamford, Mike Stamford. We were at Barts together."

He takes his cane into his left hand and shakes mine with his right. "Yes, sorry, yes, Mike, hello."

Obviously my name rang a bell, but what he's seeing doesn't fit the picture of me that he remembers.

"Yes, I know, I got fat", I offer. He's quick to deny it, but his tone betrays him. Clearly he agrees with me. I decide to change the subject.

"I heard you were abroad somewhere getting shot at. What happened?"

"I got shot." His reply is dry and simple, which takes me by surprise. War seems to have changed him quite a bit, which – of course – is only understandable. Who would return untouched?

I wonder whether he is alright, sure doesn't look like he is. "What would you say to a cup of coffee? I could really use one and the Criterion Bar is right over there."

"It's quite alright, Mike. I haven't been back that long and still need to organize some stuff, so I'd better get going." Somehow he just doesn't pay any attention to his tone; it's betraying his words. He has nowhere better to be, but he'd just rather not have an awkward conversation. However I've become more persistent since the last time that John Watson saw me.

"You always loved their coffee, said it was the only drinkable one in the whole of London. Just a quick cup, John, for old times' sake! Come on. My treat."

He finally gives in. A few minutes later we sit on a park bench, John taking a huge gulp out of his takeaway cup. I'm starting to think that being persistent might not always be a good thing. He'd clearly rather be anywhere else than sitting here with me.

"Are you still at Barts then?" He tears me out of my thoughts.

"Teaching now, yeah. Bright young things like we used to be. God, I hate them", I reply. It's true; my students remind me of my old mates from uni, especially the ones that just radiate hope. They remind me of the risks that so many of my friends took and succeeded, whereas I am still where I was fifteen years ago. John looks at me with sympathy in his eyes. Wonderful, that's just what I need. I change the topic. "What about you, just staying in town till you get yourself sorted?"

"I can't afford London on an Army pension", he explains. Seems to me like he's trying to scotch any offers I might have for a night out before they even cross my mind. He pouts and I can't help but remember those lips exploring my bare skin.

"Couldn't bear to be anywhere else. That's not the John Watson I know." My voice sounds more teasing than I expected.

"I'm not the John Watson." Why is he so quick to reply? Why can't he allow me to fantasize for one second?

Since I can't think of anything to say right away I opt for a sip of my coffee, which is when I remember. "Couldn't Harry help?"

"Yeah, like that's going to happen," he replies with a bit of a sarcastic chuckle. It makes me smile sadly. It's true; his sister has never been of the reliable kind. It must've gotten worse since back then, when she always called him in the middle of his nightshifts at the hospital, drunk out of mind, telling him about her latest heartbreaks.

"I don't know; get a flatshare or something?"

"Come on, who'd want me for a flatmate?" He's serious in his reply and then an idea pops into my head. I have to refrain from congratulating myself for it. It's so good it makes me chortle.

"What?" John seems genuinely puzzled at that. Oh boy, he has no clue.

"You are the second person to say this to me today", I reply and cannot stop smirking at the brilliance of my idea.

"Who was the first?" There you go John. That a boy. This is going to be so easy.