Disclaimer: Sherlock does not belong to me and that is probably a good thing.
It was midnight, and Sherlock was holding his violin and waiting for John. John had left quite a few hours earlier, for yet another date. Sherlock didn't know what the woman was called and didn't care. She was just another boring, average, uninteresting woman who John would go on a date (or maybe two, or three, or even four) with before she gave up on him. John might moan about Sherlock ruining his relationships, but Sherlock didn't believe he was the reason for their failure. Well, maybe a bit, but only indirectly. The real reason John never maintained a relationship was because he couldn't commit to one; he was too pre-occupied following Sherlock. Willingly, of course. It wasn't Sherlock's fault, although if he was honest he'd have to admit he quite liked having John as an assistant. A companion. A friend. Actually, John was his only real friend. Or at least the only person Sherlock counted as a friend. Sherlock wasn't concerned about that because he had no reason to believe one friend was not enough. He wasn't exactly big on social groups, so the relationship he had with John was perfect. They were happy as they were, and no 'date' was going to change that. None of them ever lasted more than a few hours. They were unfortunate inconveniences, nothing more.
That was the reason why Sherlock was just a bit anxious. It was much later than the time John normally- no, always -returned from dates. He never took more than a few hours, it just didn't happen. Scowling, Sherlock ran his fingers over the strings on his violin. There was a painfully sharp 'twang' as he plucked the violin strings harder than any manufacturer had intended. Leaving the string to still on it's own, he set the violin down on the table next to him, restlessly shifting in his chair. Despite himself, he was feeling tired. He had after all been up since 5:00 that morning and annoying though it was, he needed sleep. But if John's date wasn't causing his absence, what was? Sherlock was fairly confident in John's ability to deal with difficult situations, but it was midnight, and he wasn't back. Spotting his phone, abandoned on the floor on the opposite side of the room where he had thrown it after a frustrating conversation with a D.I. who refused to listen to his (correct) ideas, Sherlock decided to text John. He strode over and stooped, grabbed and lifted in one smooth movement. Unlocking the phone, he tapped out his message to John.
Where are you? Not bored to death by your date I hope? -SH
There. Sent it. Now there was nothing to do while he waited for a reply. Picking up his violin again, he began pacing. He considered trying to play a full piece, but he had a feeling his bow was buried under science papers and case notes, and anyway it desperately needed more rosin and Sherlock really didn't have time for that right now. He played a short pizzicato piece and then returned to absently plucking strings, still pacing. After more than quarter of an hour- longer than John normally took to reply- Sherlock's phone beeped.
No. It's going well, actually. Not that you'd care. -JW
Sherlock frowned. The text was brief and gave almost no information. Well, it did explain where John was, sort of. Still on his date. That was…unusual. A one-off. What date could possibly take this long? Trying to puzzle it out, Sherlock attempted to remember John's most recent girlfriend. Kim, wasn't it? Strange, because John's last date with her had barely lasted an hour. He decided to text John again.
So well you're still out at 12:30? Really, John. Even I'm getting tired. Are you sure she's not just talking too much? -SH
Sent. More pacing. More thinking. Then a text, after only a few minutes –could be promising.
I'm sure. Go to bed, Sherlock. You need it and I won't be back for a while. -JW
Now that was surprising. What could possibly be happening to make John stay out this late? Sherlock tried to work it out but his sleep-deprived brain was starting to fail him. Irritating as it was, John was right. He did need sleep. Reluctantly, he replaced the violin on the table and headed to his room to go to bed, making sure to text John again before he went to sleep; he couldn't let John feel that he'd won.
I do not need sleep, but since you're taking so long I may as well get it. -SH
John, receiving the message, smiled at his flatmate's attempt at denial and sent a final message;
Night to you too, Sherlock. -JW
First, thanks for reading! Seriously, thank-you. Sorry it's short (and probably not very good either), but I didn't really want to put any more plot in the first chapter, so this is how it ended up. Yes, this is going to be a multi-chapter fic. I'm not sure how many chapters yet -at least 4, but it might be a lot more. I don't know. The next chapter should be up some time in the next few days, if anyone liked this enough to want to read it.
Sw.A.L. x