Disclaimer: Bucktooth22 owns nothing because she lives a sad life.
"You don't have a girlfriend then?" I ask. I'm trying not to get my hopes up too high at the thought of being Sherlock's boyfriend. Being bisexual was always helpful when you get lonely.
"Girlfriend? No, not really my area." Came Sherlock response while he avoided eye contact. I let a small almost nonexistent smile cross my lips as the hope rose in me. Sherlock=Gay. Score 1 for team me!
"Oh right then… Do you have a boyfriend? Which is fine, by the way-" I continue, keeping my hope at bay for just a short while more.
"I know its fine." Sherlock retorts as if I had purposefully insulted his sexuality. I think I flinched slightly at the comment but I can't remember because the hurt masks it. Sherlock has a boyfriend.
"So you've got a boyfriend?" I continue pressing for information. How is he any better than I am?
"No." Sherlock responds tightly. I refrain from dancing around the restaurant. Score 2 for team me!
"Right, okay. You're unattached, just like me. Fine. Good." I say hiding the giddy excitement from my voice. There was a long pause that felt as though I was melting it's so awkward.
"John, um... I think you should know that I consider myself married to my work and while I am flattered by your interest I'm —" Sherlock says, giving me a hard stare. It's as if he is challenging me although he's masking it with amusement. I can tell he is daring me to go further.
"No." I try to interrupt him, make him stop. It hurts. Score Ø for team me.
"— really not looking for anyone —" He continues, oblivious to my pain. I am dying inside. I wonder vaguely why this top notch consulting detective can't deduce my pain. Make it stop.
"No. I'm not asking — no. I was just saying. It's all fine." I lie.
"Good. Thank you." Sherlock says, ending the conversation with one final stab to my heart.