"What are you doing, Sherlock?" John ran into the kitchen coughing and flapping his arms trying to clear the air filled with a stinky smoke. He opened the window and angrily stared at Sherlock.

"My experiments." Sherlock put down his glasses calmly and immediately his eyes started watering as the smoke was not only stinky but pretty acrid too.

"You better stop it and eat something. Otherwise you will become even more pale and skinny and will never manage to get a date". John looked at him still angry but even somewhat paternal.

This very thin, very sharp young man with a crazy passion for suspicious chemical experiments which could compromise the integrity of the flat they rented together was his best friend for years now. They met the first year of the university looking for an affordable place in London. It was easy to get along as John studied Medicine and Sherlock did Chemistry so they had some common scientific interests too.

"Who says I need one?" Sherlock took off his gloves and left the kitchen with all his flasks, bottles and dishes still sitting on the kitchen table where the indignant John was now making himself a sandwich.

"Don't' turn over!" John yelled to Sherlock who had already taken possession of the remote and sank into his favourite armchair. "Emergency is starting in a minute."

Sherlock pulled a super annoyed face and kept it until Watson entered the room chewing energetically. Sherlock never hid his attitude towards this pretty stupid medical drama John was so obsessed with. John gripped the remote firmly taking it off Sherlock's hand who pulled his knees up in an offended manner.

"Why can' we watch something a bit more intellectual." Sherlock wrapped himself into his dressing gown John never could stop mocking. The whole way Sherlock dressed was constantly a target for John's mild mockery. He himself would pick up pretty simple clothes with a modern vibe which girls used to like. Nice girls whom John changed pretty often and whose names Sherlock always failed to remember.

"Because I like this show."

"You only like that actor, Richard Brook." Sherlock rolled his eyes back as if to say "bored, bored to death".

"I like the character. Such a heartthrob." John never hid the desire to become just like him one day when he becomes a doctor himself. Sherlock could bet John partly chose his future profession only to get more girls. Who does not like doctors?

"You're blond though." Sherlock studied John's appearance critically but John just dismissed his remark already totally absorbed in the opening titles.

Sherlock did not like to admit it but he secretly liked the actor too. Not the character, which was cheesy and written as a cliché but the actor himself. That face, the lips, the black hair, the way he moved and most of all the way he looked at people was intimidating and exciting. Sherlock would never admit it but he would read some interviews with him on the newspapers. They would constantly speculate whether Brook was gay and had someone.

John had finished his sandwich and followed the events with fascination. Sherlock watched him as he subconsciously imitated Brook's posture and the way he moved his eyebrows which made John look ridiculous. Sherlock really liked John and he was a treasure of a friend but sometimes he was just preposterous. Mainly when it had to do with girls. Sherlock would never do anything to attract their attention which John would sometimes comment on but never too hard. He might have started suspecting long time ago they were not Sherlock's area.

"Oh, you know, Molly called." John darted Sherlock a meaningful look which he chose to ignore. "She wanted to know whether you were coming to that post diploma party next week."

Molly was Sherlock's friend who it was as clear as day to John was desperately in love with Sherlock and probably thought that was her last chance to get him at this party. The problem was Sherlock never noticed anything and Molly never told him anything. John thought he could have tried to hit on Molly but judging from his experience she would have hardly fallen for anyone else before taking her each possible chance with Sherlock.

Sherlock did not really like the idea of the party but felt like John would make him come as he always did. He said it was good for Sherlock to go see people having fun from time to time but Sherlock never really felt confident on such occasions. He was not particularly apt at conversations and drinking. Let alone snogging someone in a dark corner. He has not yet had sex and sometimes wondered whether he really wanted to. John thought that was part of his problems with the world but never really made him pressure even if his jokes told it all straight enough: find someone or you will die miserable.

Sherlock never really felt quite attracted to anybody. He cast a glance at the screen. Ordinary people looked bleak to him and he never met anyone like this Brook. Maybe if he did he would feel something. Okay, more than something. Very much more. Sherlock caught himself at these stupid thoughts and felt relieved seeing John who had not noticed anything. Sherlock would stay with him like that watching tv as it was their ritual: John would like something and Sherlock would mock it and get all grumpy. But unfortunately he did not have time to do so as his shift at Speedy's was about to start. He did not like the job but it was a way to get some money to add something to the funds his parents provided him with every month. This summer would have been even tougher as Sherlock had to find himself a real job after graduation.

Sherlock was still a bit confused about what he was going to do next but he felt like this particular moment was not ideal to ponder about his future. Sandwiches and salads at Speedy's needed to be served. He grabbed his jacket and changed into it. John would always pick at him about dressing too properly for work but he did like his suits and preferred buying them instead of food. He looked at himself in the mirror and adjusted his curly hair. John gave him a furtive look. He would laugh at Sherlock for trying to make something out of himself but secretly he was a bit perplexed about having such good looks and just wasting them.

Sherlock ran down the stairs leaving John to his medical drama with almost no sensible plot and entered Speedy's which – what luck! - was just next to their front door. He changed into his usual apron and a white cap and patted Lestrade's shoulder who was just leaving. Greg gave him a huge smile. He was a good pal ready to become a policeman in autumn so they would not hang out together for long. They used to share a cigarette if they finished the shift together late at night.

"How are you doing?" Greg was genuinely nice to him, he happened to like Sherlock even if considered him a bit cookoo.

Sherlock just nodded not bothering himself to answer.

"Diploma and everything, huh?" Greg's voice changed to a bit cautious. "Must be having a party, aren't you?"

Oh, a party, Sherlock felt so bored again. Everybody cared so much about this insignificant evening. He just shrugged his shoulders. "Can I come?" Greg sounded almost shy. Sherlock shrugged his shoulders again. "Why not?"

"Ask Molly, will you?" Greg's cheeks turned red and Sherlock could not help but smiling knowingly. Lestrade had a massive crash on Molly but never had enough courage to ask her anything directly, maybe that was his last chance to do, they would hardly party together after graduation. A new life was going to start.

He nodded approvingly and Greg exhaled relieved.

"Call me after, ok?" Sherlock nodded again.

Greg left visibly cheered up.

Sherlock felt even more annoyed. At least he had a person to chat to when they used to have shifts with Lestrade but it was not today.

So he gave a long sigh and started rearranging sandwiches and salads and lukewarm pasta on the counter. He would bring a chemistry book to read secretly when no one approached him and that was the case. He would soon lose himself in the description of tests and experiments he dreamt of replicating in his kitchen and hopefully in a lab in the future. Molly would let him use the lab she worked in from time to time but Sherlock would like having his own one. Maybe one day…

He got so lost in his thoughts that he did not even realized there was someone talking to him until that someone raised his voice –somehow familiar to Sherlock – to ask which of the sandwiches were fresh.

Sherlock blinked slowly focusing his gaze on the client. The first thing he noticed was his piercing gaze and the pupils which almost merged with his irises. Sherlock felt somehow paralyzed under this demanding look and he froze to the spot waiting for this insistent voice to ask him something else again. Seeing Sherlock in this state the man could not hold a smirk and the realization struck Sherlock: that was Richard oh my God Brook from the TV. He did not look quite the same as he did in the show. He did not look so neat, more relaxed, and younger which was curious but the characteristic sharp feeling of his whole appearance and manners had gone nowhere. Sherlock felt blood rushing to his cheeks and his heart beating in his throat as he replied.

"Everything we have is fresh."

Brook smirked again and Sherlock was sure the red colour of his face intensified and he could feel blood pumping though his veins under this direct gaze as Richard scanned him up and down with an expression Sherlock could not read.

"Then I'll have this egg sandwich". Sherlock nodded swallowing hard and took the packed sandwich from the counter putting it on the plate. "Eggs enhance sexual vigor." Brook dropped watching Sherlock's reaction who got so embarrassed that made a whole pile of paper napkins fall and bent down to pick them up to the floor muttering "shit" hoping the actor could not hear him. But he did not only hear Sherlock but stared at him as well. To do so he walked round the corner of the counter and when Sherlock unbent abruptly they almost bumped foreheads as Richard was leaning closer to watch Sherlock's hectic embarrassed movements. Sherlock saw Richard's perfect face so close to his that something inside him turned and he felt he could have kissed him that moment. He certainly felt attracted to him. They moved back in a sort of a slow waltz and despite the fact Richard walked with his back forward Sherlock felt he was leading among them two. It took him back to the dancing classes he attended as a child. He never particularly liked the girls who were his partners because they always waited for him to lead but Sherlock did not feel like leading though he was fascinated with dancing. Sherlock's eyes must have turned too dreamy as Richard took a big step back breaking the spell. A gap suddenly opened between them made Sherlock shake off his daydreaming and cough self-consciously. He was unable to take his eyes off Richard and only stared at him as he unwrapped his sandwich and started eating it darting killer looks at Sherlock. Sherlock felt really shy under his gaze. He must have been looking a bit sick as he had not been eating properly in these late days and the recent flu still had him weary.

"I have never seen such a reaction to my presence." Richard remarked chewing his sandwich slowly studying Sherlock's appearance. Sherlock felt the need to rush straight to the loo to splash cold water in his face to stop this teenage burning. He did not know what to say except for "Oh my God, you're so hot. May I kiss you?" but he doubted that would have been appropriate.

"If you want an autograph just tell me." Richard swallowed a bite and the movements of his throat woke up something very primal in Sherlock's stomach.

"I… I don't have paper on me." Sherlock immediately regretted this awkward excuse. It was as if he was denying being a fan, looking for an excuse not to get his autograph. Oh, could it be worse?

"I could sign your shirt." Richard licked his lips and Sherlock felt it was only to collect bread crumbs from his mouth. He felt his knees went weak and he almost had to prop himself up the counter. "Girls ask me to do this all the time." Richard wiped his mouth with a napkin. And Sherlock suddenly found his voice.

"I'm not a girl." Richard smirked and gave him a flirty look. Sherlock wanted to stand up to it and dared shifting his eyes to study Richard's t shirt which did not hide the lines of his torso. Sherlock wondered how he looked without.

"Boys do too." Richard almost whispered leaning closer and winked. Is it so obvious that I am gay? Is he assuming I am gay because he is?

"Are you gay, Mr. Brook?" Sherlock blurted out all of a sudden taking Richard a bit aback.

He lifted his brow at Sherlock.

"I am not going to tell you. Because this is a secret I cannot reveal." He paused a while and his eyes were screaming "Of course, I am!". "But I will tell you another secret. Brook is my pseudonym."

"Oh," Sherlock exhaled surprised, "what is your real name then?"

Richard scanned him a bit as if deciding whether to tell him or not.

"Jim Moriarty."

The sound of this Irish surname made Sherlock's heart jump. It was sensual to his ear. He decided he would google the meaning.

"So, you want an autograph?"

Sherlock nodded hastily. Oh God, he did.

"Could you sign one for my friend, he is such a fan of yours!" Sherlock immediately pictured John's face. He would be on cloud nine.

"What's his name?"

"John, John Watson. We live together, he's my…"

Richard's flashing stare stopped Sherlock. Oh, it sounded weird, less than anything he wanted Richard… Jim to think he was involved with someone. Oh, how stupid, how utterly idiotic this feeling was, but he just wanted him to know he had no one, he was free, in case…. Mmm… in case… what case? You idiot! "… friend" he finally exhaled.

"Okay, what is your address?" Richard lifted his eyebrows questioningly.

"It's just next to the shop. It's 221B Baker st. "

"Okay, tomorrow you'll have my autographs for your friend John and yourself. What's your name by the way?"

Richard's tone was casual but Sherlock felt deep under he was more curious about him than he wanted to show.

"Sherlock. Sherlock Holmes."

Brook smiled, almost smirked at him.

"The name is Sherlock Holmes and the address is 221 B Baker st." And with these words he left.

Sherlock stood there for some minute feeling as he had been struck over the head. The rest of the shift passed as if in a dream. All Sherlock could think about was exiting the shop and running up the stairs to tell John every detail about his incredible meeting.

And so he did as soon as the shift was over.

He stormed into the flat searching for John and finding him right where he had left him, almost napping in front of the tv.

"John, you would not believe what happened today!"

John listened incredulous and momentarily awaken. He only interrupted Sherlock's story with "oh" and "shit" and he only commented when Sherlock told him that Richard wanted to sign his shirt.

"I knew he was gay." He sounded pleased with himself.

Sherlock somehow felt jealous of Richard's sexual orientation and he did not tell John about the pseudonym. He felt it made the story even more special.

Finally he came to bed exhausted and stupidly happy. He had not felt like this for a long time. He touched the pillow with a light head. There was his post-graduation summer waiting for him and tomorrow Richard Brook – Jim Moriarty for him – would send him a piece of his handwriting. Sherlock's rational part knew it was completely dull but his heart skipped a bit each time his tongue rolled in his mouth to savour the name: Moriarty.