Sherlock

I have to keep on reminding myself this is only temporary to maintain my sanity. I dart around college with no real direction and I think that's what frustrates me the most. Usually I'll have to know exactly what I'm doing, what's going on but this is a I'll know it when I see it thing. Those are my least favourites.

Antonia, you've got to be somewhere. Lunch was finishing in two minutes, she wouldn't be on her way already would she? She has to be somewhere. Maybe she's left early for her next class. She's usually punctual, yes, that would make sense.

Where would she be heading though? I think back – folder. She was holding a folder. Labelled Biology. She couldn't have already had that class as mine was her first of the day – Science Labs are my best bet at the moment. I speed up my pace. Oh God, I can't be late for teaching either. That's unprofessional. And that's also ironic right now, I suppose.

Students flood the corridors like flocks of sheep, bleating and stumbling on. I look for Antonia. She's nowhere. I keep looking, I push my way through the crowd and pretend to actually be going somewhere. I hate students. They're slow in literally every sense. No Antonia, I don't have time for you, I need to find- OH!

"Antonia, hi!" I beam feebly trying to be friendly, as usual.

Stop smiling. Stop smiling. It's it. Stop smiling now. Serious face. You're serious. Mysterious. Don't smile. Now you look creepy. Stop it. Just be normal. Normal. What the hell is normal anyway!?

"Oh hey," Antonia looks a little startled. Small talk Sherlock. Small talk.

"Have you had a haircut?"

"Um, not since I last saw you."

"But you have had one, was it yesterday? I didn't tell you earlier, it looks really nice."

"Thank... you...? Is that what you stopped me for?"

"No actually. That would be a bit odd, wouldn't it?"

She laughs nervously. "Yeah..."

She thinks you're going to kill her. She thinks you're going to kill her.

"It's actually about the exam last week. I'm not really supposed to tell you this yet so you've got to keep quiet about it."

"Go on..."

"You got a B." I look solemnly at my feet and then back up again. She looks disappointed. "I mean, it's good, it's not a fail, it's just that might weight down your final mark a bit."

"Oh, yeah I get it. I've been a bit behind that's all."

"Did you know you can retake the exam in your own time? You don't have to, it's just depending on your university choice you might want to take it into consideration. If you retook it and got an A and then kept up the work you could get an A* overall and that would be fantastic, especially in applications."

"If I'm honest, sir, I don't think I should. I only just got by, and that was by guessing half of it. If I do a different paper there's a chance they'll be more stuff I don't know. I'll probably get worse..."

Yes, yes, yes. This is exactly what I wanted.

"Well, do you need any help catching up then? Because I'd be glad- I mean, I'd really like to see you go off to a good university. If you get an A*, and I've heard you're doing well in everything else, I don't think anyone would turn you down. I could give you half an hour or so after class one day, to go over what you haven't learnt and then I can let you do a retake once you're confident enough?"

"That would be... awesome. Are you even allowed to do that?"

"There's nothing that says I can't, unless I helped you in the actual examination. Would you find that helpful?"

"Yeah, really helpful thanks. Are you sure? Do you have enough time?"

"Of course."

I mean, now I'm forbidden from watching your dad I've got quite a lot of time left over. Best not to say that aloud. Even I can see that's not really the kind of joke I should make. Especially since it's true.

We arrange a date and I let her go, in order not to make her late. My plan has already started working.

John

The surgery is oddly quiet today. I'm constantly waiting to be asked if I can see someone now but I've been reassured half a dozen times now that I don't have any appointments booked in for the rest of today. Obviously I still have to stay in until the end of my shift though. I know I should use this time productively but I can't bring myself to do anything. I've lost my motivation completely, if I wasn't doing it subconsciously I'm not sure if I have enough patience to breathe.

I press my eyelids shut and try to get some peace – not that I didn't have any already. Too much. It's times like this I end up fantasising about gun shots and camouflage, sounds of battle and cries and- and those I couldn't save. This can't be good. I've been told so many times to stop that thinking. Words are just words in the end, I guess.

I haul myself up from my chair and stagger towards the door, clasping my hand around the handle. Outside I look up and down the corridor, then turn 360 degrees and look at the dull silver name plate. That's my name, what else was I expecting? My feet take me to the waiting room and I'm in no place to stop them. Better than standing still.

I turn to the receptionist and look through the little window. "Still nothing?"

"Nothing." She shrugs sadly and helplessly. "Sorry."

I sigh heavily and look around the bare room. Except it's not actually empty. A familiar figure takes place in a seat, staring right through me and at the wall behind with a dazed look. Cautiously as if I'm approaching a wild animal I take a seat next to Sherlock. He doesn't stir; it's unnerving.

Has he noticed me? Of course he would. He notices everything. But he hasn't said anything. Maybe he doesn't think he's allowed to. Is he even? He is now. I allow him to. How do I show that?

I cross my legs and uncross them again then just look over and away again. Nothing.

"I thought Antonia told you to-"

"-I know." His voice is deep, haunting to hear after so long. I hold back a shiver.

"So..." I lick my lips. "How do you explain this?"

"Coincidence."

"Really?"

"Yes."

"What are you doing here anyway?"

For the first time he looks at me, dead in the eyes and I remember the contained danger in that look. "Is that important to you?"

"Sorry."

"It's alright." He looks down at his hands and fiddles with them for a bit before conversing. "Quiet day then."

"Far too quiet. We need a new plague."

He chuckles. "I agree. I'm guessing Antonia told you about the extra help."

"Yes, very nice of you to offer, thank you again on her behalf."

"Not a problem. She's very deserving."

"I'm proud of her."

"You should be. I was surprised she took up the offer, I expected she'd have a bit of a grudge."

"Oh she's bad at grudges. She can hold them but if someone's nice to her she's nice back. It's instinct. Mary was like that."

I open my mouth to say something, anything that would take that last sentence back. There's nothing, nothing comes at least. I stay silent. So does Sherlock. I don't have the guts to look over at him – ha, war hero Watson scared of a man – but out of the corner of my eye I see him thoroughly examine his shoes.

Like me he probably doesn't know what to say. Bring your dead wife into it John, that's a great way to keep a perfectly good conversation going.

"I-I-" As soon as Sherlock begins to speak my eyes dart over like they've been craving this, the movement of his lips produce syllables to kill the silence. They probably have and I think he feels the pressure. It's so strong even I do. "I'm sorry John."

He looks like he means it. Maybe he does. This is a conversation that shouldn't even be happening no matter what we're talking about but it's a bit too late for stopping now.

"She was her mother, my wife... you know."

"I know."

"She's dead... and all."

"Yeah, I know."

"Of course you do."

"Of course I do."

"I shouldn't have brought that up."

"Only natural." He shrugs. "I'd keep myself occupied until this rut passes if I were you."

"I'm not in a rut." I argue. "How did you know that?"

"Well you asked me how I did – not would, know that, that's a bit of a giveaway. Besides it's a little obvious. You seem sad. That's coming from someone who doesn't specialise in emotions in any way either. It was something Antonia said."

"Why does everything have to relate back to her?"

"I don't know. Does it?"

"To me it does."

"To me it doesn't. To me it always relates back to you..." He looks away distantly and then does the same thing he did last time – completely dismisses me. "You can go now."

That shouldn't have gone the way it did. Still, I'd missed him a little. I think I was starting to forget the rush that came with that man; I'm not quite sure what it is. Maybe I really do need more distractions. None of this can be good, not really.

Sherlock

As soon as I got to Molly's I didn't even bother ringing the doorbell. I heavily planted my forehead against the door like it was weighted, and then again, consistent banging calling her name in-between every beat. This way she'll never know if I genuinely feel like hitting my head against a door or that I'm too lazy to take my hands out of my pockets – that's a lot more realistic than it sounds by the way.

"Molly." Thump. "Molly." Thump. "Molly." Thump. "Molly." Thump. "Molly." Thump. "Molly." Thump. "Let me in." Thump. "It's me." Thump. "Molly." Thu- click!

The door opens and I practically collapse on her. At any other point I would have straightened myself up but I just fall into her and she catches me, awkwardly patting my back. Instantly disliking her dominance I break away. Then bound through and collapse on her sofa.

"Mollyyyyyy." I moan, face buried in a cushion. "You were right."

"I was right about... what?" I feel her, she slowly approaches me. I whip out my hand and hold it out like a stop sign and she does – before I let my arm fall loose, touching the floor. Toby the cat comes to sniff it.

"You were right about..." My hand dances in the air since I can't really do much with my face and I'm certain I nearly give Toby a blow. "The thing, the John thing."

"The John thing?"

"I hate you Molly."

"Oh."

"No I don't hate you I just hate you."

"...oh."

"No really, you were right. John's different."

"Different?"

Tiredly I turn my head to face her and I'm certain my hair is sticking up in different directions and I probably look like a hedgehog or at least some form of Triassic reptile. "I don't just want a hook up with John."

"You don't? You don't like him any more?"

"No, I really like him." I take a deep sigh and hug a different cushion. "I really do. I just realised I really do like him and I don't like him – I mean, it."

"How?"

"Have I shown you a photo of him?"

"...no... I don't... think so?"

"I don't actually have one, I suppose I could find one around somewhere."

"Is he nice?"

"Dear Lord he's nice. His eyes do this thing..." My hand waves frantically over my eyeballs and I realise how stupid I'm looking, I'm sounding, I'm speaking and I stop. "I give up."

"You can't give up."

"Watch me."

"But if you really like him that much..." Molly moves my legs and sits down on the space where they were. I'm tempted to kick her – I was comfortable – but it's her sofa. But it's my breakdown. Never mind. "I mean I've never seen you like this before, apart from when-"

"-we don't talk about the chameleon Molly we've settled this."

"Yeah, well you're never like this. He's got to count for something."

"I don't count for anything."

"Don't say that." She begins twiddling my hair. I'm going to bite her arm. On second thoughts I sort of like it. The twiddling can continue. "He'd be lucky to have you. What happened, anyway?"

"Nothing fatal, he was just being all sensitive and all. He's been sad. I don't want him to be sad Molly I want him to be happy forever... with me." I look away startled at what I said. "God that sounds like something you'd say."

"I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that. Don't give up just yet, you don't really have a reason to."

"Men are stupid. Molly will you turn lesbian with me?"

"I- it doesn't work like that Sherlock."

"Well why doesn't it?"

"Because-"

"Stop telling me what to do. It always goes wrong." I roll over so not to face her.

"I'm sorry."

"I want to say it's not your fault but it really is."

Bit of a filler, sorry about that. Next chapter should be good though. Pinky promise. You guys are amazing, please keep up the reviews!