A/N: This story was requested! Sherlock and John at the movies... I think that's all I have to say.
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
"I hate the cinema, John. Why are you forcing me to go when you know I hate it?" Sherlock had been grumbling for at least an hour, but John was immovable. His favorite film as a child had been Godzilla vs. Mothra and ever since he'd seen and been disappointed by every version of the radioactive lizard ever made. He remembered being so excited about the 2000 remake with Matthew Broderick. He'd even waited outside the cinema, days before it came out, when the tickets went on sale. What a disappointment that was! And then, that abomination Cloverfield. They did a better job with Reptar on that old American cartoon about the babies with the neglectful parents! But this time, it would be different. This time, the film was going to be epic! All the reviews were great, the trailer looked amazing—it even had that guy from Breaking Bad! John Watson was not going to miss it. Of course, the downside to all this was that Mary was unavailable to see it on opening night so he was forced to bring Sherlock. He wouldn't have bothered, but he hated going to the cinema alone. There's something incredibly lonely about going to see a film by oneself. Besides, Sherlock owed him a favor. But he certainly wasn't going to concede without a fight.
"Come on, Sherlock. If you give it a chance, you might like it," John said, digging around in his pocket for their tickets that he'd purchased earlier.
"That's highly illogical given everything that you know about me, John. I don't regularly watch films. I'm not whimsical in the least and sitting in dark rooms with a bunch of strangers makes me nervous. Why on Earth would you think that there's any chance I'll like it?"
"No reason at all," John sighed, handing their tickets to the usher at the door.
They walked into the Cineplex and Sherlock was immediately tense. Crowds were most definitely not his division and he moved quickly toward the concession stand, trying not to be noticed. "Must we stand here?" he grumbled again.
"If we want popcorn, then yes," John explained.
"Greasy bits of corn kernels covered in salt and you want to eat it?"
"Yes," John answered, smiling politely at the cashier and giving their order.
"Oh. Wow! Hi!" The high-pitched nervous squeal of Molly Hooper's voice cut through all the noise of the crowd, forcing both men to turn.
"Molly!" John exclaimed, greeting her with a warm embrace. Sherlock shoved his hands in his coat pockets and glowered. "Seeing a film?"
"No, John. She's here to perform an autopsy on the cardboard cutout of Bilbo Baggins in the corner," Sherlock said, sarcasm dripping from his tone.
Molly smiled, ignoring Sherlock's snarky comment. "Yeah. I a ticket for 'Godzilla' last week, but my friend backed out and couldn't come. So here I am. Alone at the cinema."
"Oh that's no fun," John said, taking his popcorn from the cashier and shoving it at Sherlock. "I made Sherlock come with me—"
"Against my will," Sherlock interjected.
"You should sit with us," John said. He started to hand over his card to the popcorn lady.
Molly nodded. "If you don't mind," she said, looking pointedly at Sherlock.
He wasn't paying attention. He was too busy staring in disbelief at the cash total on the screen. "Ten pound for that?" Sherlock exclaimed. He grabbed John's wrist, stopping him from giving over his money. "He wanted popcorn not caviar!"
"Sherlock…" John started, trying to smile and jerking his arm away.
"No! That's like robbery!"
"It's fine…"
"No it isn't, John! Ten pound- fifty for fucking popcorn and fizzy pop? For that price it better come with a happy ending!"
John's face went up in flames and he handed over his card, trying not to look at the casher as he did so. "I'm so sorry," he mumbled.
Sherlock started to say more, but was stopped by the sharp elbow of Molly Hooper digging into his side. "Shut it, Sherlock," she growled through her teeth as she grabbed his arm. "Think of how much money he'll be out if we get thrown out of here." She forcibly linked her arm through his and jerked him away from the concession counter. "Let's just find our seats."
Fifteen minutes and two more altercations later, the three of them were sitting in the theater, waiting for the film to start. Molly opened up her bag of M&Ms and offered some to both John and Sherlock. "No. He has gold-plated popcorn to eat," Sherlock groused, grabbing the bag of chocolate and pouring some into his hand just as a line of people made their way down the aisle and into the row behind them. There were at least ten and they banged into the chairs in front of them without thought. Sherlock lurched forward, spilling his M&Ms onto the floor. He turned and glared at them. He wanted to say something, but Molly gripped his arm tight, digging her nails into the back of his hand as she offered more candy. He sighed and turned back around as the trailers began.
If the film wasn't bad enough, the trailers were much worse. "Must we see any more loud, extra-long commercials for ridiculous films? A kids' film about dragons, a stupid comedy full of crude sexual humor and a horror film about some superstitious moron being possessed by demons."
John heaved an exasperated sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Would it be possible for you to just sit there and watch the screen and not talk?"
"Probably not," he huffed, sliding down in his seat.
The lights went down and the movie began. John was practically bouncing in his seat, cheering with the rest of the audience when the title flashed on the screen. Sherlock leaned over. "You know that the actors can't hear you, right?"
"Shut it," John snapped, shoving a handful of popcorn into his mouth.
To his surprise, as the movie began and the plot began to unfold, Sherlock found himself getting lost in the story. As ridiculous as the story might seem, the actors were pretty good and seemed to make it real. He was able to suspend his disbelief that the radiation from an atomic bomb might awaken some strange mutant creature lurking deep beneath the Earth. He was even able to buy that radioactive moths could hatch out of radioactive cocoons. Unfortunately, the thought that the government…ANY government could cover up a gigantic, radioactive lizard that breathes fire and takes out whole cities with a swipe of its tail for more than fifty years was more than Sherlock could stand. "Oh right. Like no one would notice. Like no one would escape from the island and run directly to social media! Are these people living under a rock?"
"Sssshhh…" the people behind him hissed.
"Sssshhh!" Sherlock hissed back.
Molly slid down lower in her seat.
OoOoOo
John woke with a start. He rolled over, rubbing his eyes, and spied the clock in the corner. 2:18. Why the hell was he awake? The movie hadn't bothered him at all, so surely it wasn't a nightmare. Perhaps he was just wired. Or maybe all the caffeine he consumed at the coffeehouse after the movie. Whatever the reason, he was wide awake with little hope of going back to sleep. Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, he pulled a teeshirt on and made his way into the toilet.
A few minutes later, he trudged down the stairs, intent on fixing himself a nice, soothing cup of tea. Maybe then he'd be able to sleep. He was halfway down when he heard the quick, rhythmic buzz of Sherlock typing away on his keyboard. Sure enough when he emerged into the lounge, he could see his flatmate, curled up in his favorite chair, hair disheveled from sleep peering into the soft blue glow of his laptop. He obviously didn't notice John as he came into the lounge. Whatever he was studying, all of the detective's attention was focused on it. "Sherlock?" John said, trying to catch his attention.
"Hmm?"
"Tea?"
"Mmm…" he replied, not looking up.
"I guess that's a no?" Sherlock didn't say anymore, so John decided to just make him a cup of tea and leave it on the desk. As he stood there, waiting for the kettle to boil, he could hear his friend making all sorts of frustrated noises. John never saw it coming when the laptop flew across the room, splattering against the wall over the couch. Upon closer inspection, the info wall had been covered with photographs of various versions of Godzilla, topographical maps of Japan and seismic printouts from Hawaii. "Sherlock?"
"There's no such thing as radioactive reptiles!" was all he could say before storming off to bed.