Lessons from John
So this is spurred on by comments on my last fic (The Talk) asking me to reveal what John told Sherlock but it's not in the same story at all. Molly doesn't make her appearance for a while but this will be a Molly/Sherlock story eventually.
"Cheer up, mate," said John as they arrived back at 221B Baker St, "we can't solve everything!"
"I don't see why not, John." Sherlock flung himself on the couch, coat and all.
"Well, in this case, your lack of knowledge was at fault, and if you'd just listened to me, those jewels wouldn't be on the black market right now, one illicit transaction away from being the property of a Russian oligarch's wife."
"It's a waste of my talents to take on robberies anyway," huffed Sherlock.
"You know I'm right. If you had ever been a normal guy, you'd have spotted the romance angle immediately."
"Pfft."
"I'll make some tea," placated John.
For 20 minutes, Sherlock did not talk. Finally, he took a sip of his now cold tea, made a face and announced.
"Alright then."
"Er, what?" John looked up from his half-typed blog post of their latest case.
"I concede that knowledge of romance might have been useful in this instance." He said romance like other people said rotting flesh wound. "I accept your offer of guidance."
"Hang on, have you been conversing with me in your head again?"
"Of course not, you said I could learn from you: I accepted."
John considered this for a moment. He held his hands in a prayer pose silently mocking his flatmate.
"Ok," he said finally, "but you agree to follow my lead in all things."
"No."
"Yes. Or no deal."
"Fine. When do we start?"
"Tonight. We're going to the pub."
"For what?"
"You'll watch me chat up women and then you can have a go. It should be easy…you can be charming when it suits you."
Sherlock just nodded in response.
"Oh, and get out of that suit – it's too intimidating. Wear jeans and a shirt."
"Really? I have to wear a costume?!"
"Yes. Maybe it'll help you get into character."
"What character is that?"
"Normal human male trying to score."
Four hours later, they arrived at the bar John had picked. Sherlock had questions.
"Explain why you chose this wine bar."
"Wine bars have only background music. Regular pubs will be much noisier. If you're to observe properly, you'll need to hear and see what I'm saying. Now, when we go inside, we'll walk once around the whole venue and then I'll chose our seats."
Sherlock raised his eyebrows.
"So we can scope out all the women."
Suddenly, a thought occurred to John.
"Sherlock…you wouldn't prefer to go to a gay bar, would you?"
"No." John looked relieved but pressed on for absolute certainty.
"Just so we're clear, you do realise that these, er, lessons will result in homework that could involve many if not all of the following activities: being pleasant for no ulterior motive, using your powers of deduction to give compliments, kissing, touching and, although I doubt you'll be that successful, the opportunity to have sex with a woman?"
"Why wouldn't I be that successful?" Sherlock retorted before realising he'd been drawn into agreeing to it all.
"Fine. Follow my lead. Tonight, you're just watching."
John pushed the door open and went inside. The wine bar was Italian, but not cheesy. A small bar ran along the back wall. Booths lined the other three and table were in the middle. It was reasonably early so plenty of seats were available. Despite his previous assertion that they would do a lap before committing to a location, John made a beeline for the bar and pulled out a chair, two down from a woman sitting alone. He motioned for Sherlock to sit on his other side and picked up the menu.
Sherlock took stock of the lady at the bar. Early 30s, unmarried, professional, sipping a glass of red wine and reading a Kindle. He briefly lamented that it wasn't a real book, therefore denying him the further insight that could be gained from the title and style.
John turned to her and smiled. Nodding towards her glass, he asked
"What's that you're drinking? Is it any good? I'm rubbish at picking the right wine," he explained.
"It's Chianti. Do you know much about wine?"
John ran his fingers through his hair; "No, but it's a good conversation starter." He brazened it out and was rewarded when she smiled back at him.
Signalling to the barman for 3 more glasses, John moved over a seat, leaving Sherlock momentarily alone until he realised he was supposed to move too.
"I'm John, this is my insufferable mate, Sherlock."
"I'm Kate. Why is he insufferable?"
"How long do you have?" he joked.
The barman brought their wine and John nodded at Sherlock to pay. Apparently, lessons were not free.
Kate looked at her watch.
"Waiting for someone?" John enquired.
"My friend, Sharon, but I reckon a row with her unsuitable boyfriend is going to result in her ditching me."
"I'm glad we're here to keep you company then."
"What do you do?" asked Kate.
"I'm a doctor and Sherlock is a chemist," John jumped in quickly. Sherlock opened his mouth to correct him but a look from John stopped him.
"And Sherlock, that's a very unusual name…" she prodded.
"Family tradition. You should hear some of my cousins' names," said Sherlock, speaking for the first time.
"So you can speak. I wondered if you just let John do all the talking."
"Well, he is so good at it," said Sherlock, finally starting to play along.
The wine and conversation flowed. Sherlock watched as John turned into a different person before his eyes. Gone was the military bearing, the pent-up frustration and the put-upon attitude. In their stead, a charming, self-deprecatingly funny and quite adept manipulator appeared. After about an hour, Kate excused herself to go to the ladies and Sherlock pounced on John.
"Your whole personality changes around women. I've never seen you like this before."
"Well, I was never trying to chat you up…I hope you're taking mental notes. What have you observed?"
"You compliment her while quietly putting yourself down and occasionally slagging me off. You've only had two glasses of wine to her three so she's drunker than you are. In the last 5 minutes, you've touched her arm and then her knee. She's responded with similar kinds of touches."
"Good. Those are the sort of signals we send to let the other person know we're interested. Now when she comes back, in half an hour, excuse yourself, saying you've got an early start and head home. Don't wait up for me."
"You expect to go home with her? How am I to observe the rest?"
"This is just the first lesson. And don't think you're going to be observing to that level, ever!"
Sherlock nodded and duly made his excuses at the appointed time. He did, however, wait up for a while when he got home. John did not return so eventually Sherlock succumbed to tiredness combined with mild intoxication and actually went to bed.
His eyes snapped open when he heard the key in the lock. Reaching for his phone, he saw that it was just after 7am. He jumped out of bed, threw on his blue dressing gown and ran down to the sitting room, where John was hanging up his jacket.
"So Kate has a regular 9-5 job and you had to leave?"
"Yes. Luckily I don't, and I'm going back to bed," his voice was a little hoarse. Sherlock peered down at him and drew a breath.
"Your lips are roughened up, presumably from kissing. Your eyes suggest you had about 6 hours sleep but it wasn't refreshing, I imagine because you weren't in your own bed, combined with the wine you had, you've showered there – you smell like vanilla and we certainly don't have anything that would cause it. Would you call last night a successful endeavour?"
"You mean, did I sleep with her? Yeah, I did." John grinned, wondering if Sherlock was quite ready to engage in a traditional male "well done, you scored" type conversation.
"Was that a normal encounter for you or were you just showing off?"
"I'd say it was both," admitted John, still a tiny bit pleased with himself.
Sherlock nodded pensively and headed for the kitchen. John decided to go back to bed for a while. No doubt there'd be questions later.
He was not wrong.
Shortly after lunchtime, Sherlock launched his verbal attack.
"So will you see her again?
"Not this time."
"Why not? Was she unsatisfactory in bed?"
John glared at Sherlock. "No comment on that front. She's not long out of a relationship so isn't looking for anything. I can't continue to teach you properly if I have a girlfriend. It's hard enough keeping one with you around when you're not interested!"
"So what's next then?"
"We'll find a willing woman and you will practice on her."
"How will we know she's willing?" asked Sherlock. He really hadn't a clue.
"Ah, well, listen carefully because I will never say this again. You, my friend, are a beautiful man. And women are constantly coming on to you. It's just not on your radar so you don't notice."
"Oh," said Sherlock, a look of realisation crossed his face.
"What, or rather who, are you remembering?" John grinned.
"Molly. The first time we met. She was asking me out."
"Molly Hooper?! No. She can't keep a sentence together around you. Mind, it's only around you. She's perfectly normal and chatty when you go out for your secret smoke breaks."
"No, she did. She asked me if I'd like to have coffee."
"Don't tell me, you responded by telling her how you took it?"
Sherlock's silence said it all.
"Sherlock! Even for you, that's bad. You should make it up to her."
"You mean I should practice on her?"
"No!" John spluttered. "That's a terrible idea. She actually already fancies you. If you try to chat her up, she will misunderstand and then things will be awkward."
"What if I really wanted to chat her up?" asked Sherlock, trying to sound casual.
"Leave the jokes to me. We'll go to another wine bar tonight and you can take point. Oh, relax, you don't have to go home with anyone. I told you, you'll likely not get that far on your first attempt."
And the challenge was set.
At 8pm that evening, John and Sherlock were to be found at another wine bar. Sherlock had actually gone out and bought new clothes; he really wanted to get this right.
"If you don't mind, John, I'd rather not use my real name for this. It's too unusual and I wouldn't like my professional work derailed by gossip."
"That's fine. What should I call you?"
"Alexander, it's my middle name."
"How about just Alex?"
"If you insist."
They walked into the bar and Sherlock led John around the room. They sat down at a small table in the back beside two women who were clearly catching up after not having seen each other in a while. John grimaced inwardly at the idea of breaking up two friends but it was too late to say anything. Leaning over to discuss their order, Sherlock said "just go with me on this."
He adopted a far less posh London accent and sat back in his chair, legs spread wide.
"Alright, John. Tell me what happened."
"I don't want to talk about it?" asked John, trying to catch on.
"Amelia and you. What happened? I was expecting to have to write a speech any day now and then Jack tells me it's all off. You didn't cheat on her, did you?"
John hid his astonishment. He decided to say as little as possible until he had more of this story figured out.
"No, kind of the opposite."
"She didn't!" Sherlock exclaimed loudly, catching the attention of the two women at the table next to them.
"I'm afraid she did."
"Right. Here's some money, go get whatever you want, it's on me. Then we can talk about it. Or not. Whichever you prefer." He proffered a £50 note at John and motioned to the bar. John did as he was told. From his vantage point at the bar, John saw the two women engage Sherlock in conversation. Crafty bugger! Sociopath, my arse. He knew exactly what to say to get them interested in the conversation. John grabbed the bottle of wine and headed back to the table.
"And of course, none of us thought that she was really good enough for John but what could we say: he was blind towards her…"
One of the women nodded significantly and said in a warning tone "Alex…"
"Ah, John, good. Allow me to introduce Susan and Marie."
"Really sorry to hear about your break-up," said Susan or Marie sympathetically.
"Er, thanks. Alex is a good friend to bring me out and listen to me moan about it."
John found he was suddenly the centre of a bizarre tableau – the wronged man, the dear friend and the compassionate women. It was only surprising he'd never thought of it before as a pick-up. Shame he wasn't going to pull tonight with it. Sherlock was all the things he never was: charming, witty, fun, telling great anecdotes, mimicking celebrities. Who was this stranger?
As the barman called last orders, the ladies stood up to leave. Both wished John well and each managed to slip "Alex" her business card without the other noticing. Once they were gone, Sherlock dropped his act and held up the two cards.
"I think that went well."
"Absolutely. You paid attention. The act with the dumped friend was good – got them interested. A few more attempts like this and you'll be ready for a harder task."
"I'm sure I'm ready now."
"No, you have to trust me. And you did agree to do it my way."
Sherlock scowled all the way home.
The following day, John actually had some locum work so Sherlock decided to go down and check on his experiments at St. Barts. Once he got there, he remembered his recent realisation about Molly and their first meeting. As he sat at his microscope, he could see her across the room doing paperwork at her desk. He tried to focus on the slide but he kept glancing up at her.
Molly, as always, was acutely aware of Sherlock's presence.
"What's up, Sherlock?"
"Nothing, why?"
"You keep looking at me. Do I have something in my hair or are you just deducing last night's dinner from my skin tone?" She smiled at her own joke.
"I'm not looking at you."
"Yeah, you are." Molly stood up and marched over to him. "Stop it. It's weird. I'm going to get some coffee. Do you want some?"
Sherlock smiled at the opportunity, so unexpectedly in tune with his own thoughts.
"Actually, I wanted to say something." He held up a hand to stop her talking.
"When we met, you were asking me out on a date, weren't you?"
"What? No!" Molly took a step back and bit her lower lip. "Maybe."
"It's just that I didn't comprehend your meaning . A conversation with someone recently made me realise."
"I know."
"How did you know about our conversation? Oh you mean you knew I misunderstood?" Sherlock looked oddly relieved.
"Of course. When I ask someone out, he usually doesn't give me a coffee order in return."
"Do you ask men out a lot then?" asked Sherlock curiously.
"I did."
"Past tense?"
Molly pulled herself up to her full height and in her best Sherlock impression said:
"For the sake of law and order I suggest you avoid all future attempts at a relationship, Molly."
Sherlock was stunned. He wasn't used to having his own words quoted back at him. Quietly, he said;
"Shall we have coffee?"
"Black, two sugars, I know," replied Molly, walking away.
Sherlock caught her arm and pulled her back to face him.
"I meant the other way…"