Someone recommended a prompt (OTP at a coffeeshop, one smells like smoke and the other reprimands them, turns out he's a dragon) that I couldn't resist and it fit this crossover so well that I had to do it! I do believe this is my first Sherlock fanfic so hopefully it isn't a complete flop

Read. Rate. Review. Be jolly and enjoy cinnamon rolls!

John Watson was on his last leg, pun not intended, when he walked into the off campus coffee shop. He almost never came in here because it was just a little too far out of the way but he was on his way home from a night out with Greg because "For god's sake John you practically live in the library!" which had led to a night at the pub and then a club. John didn't go to clubs. He had nothing against them but they didn't seem like a good place to meet someone. At least, not someone worth sharing a meal with. Sharing a one night stand with however was more apt. He needed something to get him through his morning lecture and it might as well be a cup of steaming bean juice.

He felt like he had been run over by a truck and picked apart by a pack of dogs. He didn't look much better. His blonde hair was getting a bit shaggy and curling at the ends. He would need to cut it soon. After finals. His black and white jumper, the one Greg commended for not looking like something his grandfather owned, was rumpled. He had had to claw one girls hands off it. She had then thrown up a little close to his brown boots. He would clean them after his lecture. They were his good pair and he was pretty sure he could smell the lingering spray of vomit coming from them. He just hoped his jeans were safe from the nights activities.

The bell rang softly as he entered The Dragon's Horde. He felt like that was a silly name for a coffee shop but he couldn't bring himself to criticize them at the ungodly hour because the smell of coffee beans wrapped around him in teasing tendrils. It was delightfully warm inside, a lovely contrast to the chill of the early December air. His jacket had done very little to keep him warm. It mattered very little at this point. The cold air only served to keep him alert a little while longer. The heat inside the shop made him feel just a little too cozy. He felt like settling into one of the leather chairs and resting for a moment.

He removed his coat as he looked around. It was definitely unusual. Most of the walls were covered in dark gray wallpaper, the rest were exposed bricks painted black. There was a fire place that was crackling and flourishes of gold and jewel tones all around. It should have felt cold and dank but the space felt like a cove to hide in. John felt as though he had stumbled upon another world. It was all too tempting to stay. However he would get his coffee and hurry to the lecture.

He stepped up to counter. There was no service. He looked around for a moment. He saw no movement in the back nor heard anything to indicate the presence of another. He rang the small bell on the counter. His fingers resting on the richly colored wood slab after a short sharp ding. He drummer his fingers against the surface while he waited. He looked around again. Someone had to be working? Maybe they stepped outside for a smoke break. He certainly hoped not. As a medical student he couldn't abide smoking. He couldn't understand people who smoked themselves into an early grave. He shuddered at the mental image of blackened lungs.

"Hello?"

"I'm very much aware that you're here. I heard you come in." A deep gravelly voice echoed from the back corner.

He eyed the shape back of an antique sofa wrapped in crushed red velvet. He spotted two feet hanging over the edge. They were covered in exquisite patent black shoes. Business must be good but slow at this hour if he was sleeping on the job. The male who spoke had to be quite tall to cover the length of the sofa and still be dangling off the end. John thought he saw a few black curls from the other end but he couldn't tell.

"Right. Sorry. Uhm, if it wouldn't be too much trouble,"

"It is." The voice rumbled.

"Sorry?" He asked taken aback.

"It is too much trouble. No one comes in this early. You're interrupting." The voice from the sofa was level and low.

"Interrupting what exactly?"

"I hardly see how that's any of your business."

"Right. Well, coffee is your business and I'm in desperate need of a cup. It can be old and cold for all I care." He said grumpily. Usually he would have apologized and left but damn it, he needed something to get him through this morning and the other coffee shop was on the other side of the campus. If he was going all the way over there he would just go home and put the kettle on.

"Cold?" He sounded offended. John watched as the voice became a figure. The figure swung up in a fluid movement. John stared the his back. The black curls that covered his head were plentiful and thick. His shoulders were wide but they didn't look especially muscular. The man stood and John was astounded by his height. He was at least half a foot taller than him. The man stretched languidly. Dear lord, he probably could have gone to the back and searched for the coffee himself at this point. The figure turned to face him. His eyes were a cool shade of blue and were as icy as his glare. His face was almost too harsh and sharp to be considered handsome but that was the word that came to mind. "I don't do cold." The man hissed.

John swallowed slowly and squared his shoulders. "Well, you're not doing hot very well right now either."

Something in the strangers eyes flickered. His gaze was no longer chilling. In fact, John felt his cheeks flood with heat under the scrutiny. He had to look away. What an intimidating presence. He leaned against the counter, suddenly feeling his weight was too much for his leg to bear. He cursed his leg for the millionth time. He could usually manage. He had even moved past using a cane thanks to physical therapy but the damn injury came back to bite him in the ass with lingering pain at every opportunity.

"Something wrong with your leg?" the stranger asked crossing the room to go behind the counter.

"Old injury. It acts up from time to time."

The stranger eyed him with shrink worthy scrutiny. John felt as if he were naked on a slab for examination. He felt exposed and not in an erotic way. Though, he wouldn't mind getting naked with this guy. He immediately scolded himself for his thoughts. He always felt sexualizing complete strangers. It was one of the many reasons why he felt weird going out with Greg. Lestrade was hellbent on enjoying his youth and apparently that meant a string of one night stands. John had tried it a few times and felt it lacking. Sure, he liked to look but it was more appreciation. He felt like a shmuck trying to fuck someone whose name he could barely recall. Call him sentimental but he liked to know what name he was saying and that it was right.

"Psychosomatic."

Perturbed by the comment retorted bitterly "I hardly see how that's any of your business." He was getting rather grumpy while waiting for a simple cup of coffee.

The man was finally behind the counter and John wanted to scoff. He most definitely didn't belong there. He was wearing a fine dark suit and the stiff collar of his button up was parted. He looked like he should be drinking champagne and prowling for innocents to con. Instead he was waiting for John to place an order.

"Are you going to stare at me all day or are you going to order?" he asked with a lazy drawl.

"Coming from the one who took his sweet time getting behind the counter." John said with a condescending smile.

A smirk played at the corner of the strangers mouth. John would have found it quite attractive if he weren't ready to snap this guys neck. The stranger arched a brow. John waited for an apology but it was clear he wasn't going to get one. What a pompous prick, he thought as he pursed his lips before accepting that he might as place his order because at this point he was going to be pushing it.

"Just a black coffee."

The barista blinked lazily. "Any sweetener?"

"No. No sweetener. Just a black coffee as fast as you possibly can. I'm in a bit of a hurry." John said shifting his weight because he was getting restless.

The barista didn't reply and John was waiting to be billed. He looked around anxiously. Was he supposed to pay after? How unusual. He walked over to a painting of a sea of golden flowers. It was quite mesmerizing. He tilted his head as he looked at it. He had never been a great art connoisseur but he admired the brush strokes and how each one looked like a tiny coin. It felt apt for the shop. He quite liked this piece. There were others similar to this. All shades of gold or the colors of fine gems. The dark walls seemed to make them shine a little brighter.

"You're coffee is done." He heard behind him. Right behind him. He felt the heat of the man's breath on the back of his neck and he shivered.

He turned around and was mere inches apart from the taller man. He swallowed and muttered a small thank you. It was quite but he was pleased that he hadn't stuttered the words out. He was uncomfortable with how flustered he was. He swallowed and licked his lips. He looked at the chest in front of him. The man was now wearing a red apron with a shiny black name tag. Sherlock was engraved. Peculiar. He wanted to find out how it felt on his tongue.

"You didn't bill me, Sherlock."

Sherlock's cocked a brow and looked mildly surprised but also a tad pleased. John thought he smelled smoke but it was faint. He didn't think it was coming from Sherlock. He hoped not. He didn't have time to tell him about the hazards of cigarettes and the internal damage they caused. That was for a later time.

"No charge." He pressed the coffee into John's hand and their hands brushed. There was a rush of heat, a jolt of electricity that made John's stomach felt paper rustle under his fingers as he clamped them around the cup. He looked down to see a pastry bag. He looked up at Sherlock with the intent of voicing his curiosity but when he met the taller man's eyes the words died on his lips.

He nodded his head and gave a flat smile. It was the best he could manage. He turned to leave. He pushed open the door and was met with an arctic breeze. He shivered and pulled his coffee closer. He looked over his shoulder. Sherlock was leaning his hip casually against the counter and watching him intently. He winked and John blushed and bit back a smile.

He would definitely be back.

I'm pretty happy with how it turned out. I think Molly is going to work at The Dragon's Horde as well. I haven't really figure out what I'm going to do with some of the other characters yet. I'm more focused on progressing John and Sherlock so they can get... intimate ahem.

Hope you enjoyed. Let me know what you think in the reviews! More to come as soon as possible :)