Sherlock glared at his reflection in the full-length mirror and groaned in his frustration. This was the third suit he had tried on now. The dominatrix possessed many clothes, but no matter how long he had been trying them on, nothing seemed right. The tall man stripped out of the shirt and tie angrily, throwing them on the floor and staring at his body critically. He never really looked at himself naked; he had others to do that for him. Sherlock ran a hand over his flat chest and frowned, he didn't understand why people found him attractive at all. He was lean and gangly, his limbs all spidery and skeletal, sharp cheekbones, bone-white skin, an unruly mop of dark hair and piercing blue eyes. He sighed, his gaze travelling down his body past his hips and between his legs where it rested thoughtfully. He cocked his head to one side and chewed his lip. He was in proportion, he supposed, but before Sherlock had time to analyse his body further, Molly swept into the room unannounced and gave a little yelp of surprise.
Sherlock chuckled as Molly slapped a hand over her eyes and whirled away in embarrassment. "Sorry! Oh, God, I'm so sorry!" She babbled helplessly. The dominatrix smiled and walked to the bed to retrieve his underwear.
"Molly, you can open your eyes now." He told her kindly, smiling as she opened one experimentally and peeked out to see him standing with his hands on his hips, now wearing pants. She blushed and ran her fingers through her hair nervously.
"Any better?" She asked, gesturing to the suit with a hopeful look.
"No" He muttered bitterly, flopping down onto the bed with another load groan.
"Try this" Molly said, holding up the deep purple shirt which was one of his favourites. Sherlock raised his head in interest and dragged himself up into standing again. He pulled on some trousers and shrugged the shirt on, smoothing the sleeves and turning them up a little.
"Works for me" Molly said boldly, stroking a hesitant hand over his shoulder blades.
Sherlock laughed "Everything works on you Mol." He replied, admiring his attire and nodding appreciatively. Yes, this would do nicely.
Sherlock Holmes had never been on a date. He understood the concept, the proper behaviour required, but he had never put this knowledge into practise. He stood outside Angelo's restaurant, a pleasant little place with candles flickering on each table and couples seated inside, nerves cramping in his stomach. Sherlock tried doing what he always did when he was bored or needed to occupy his mind; he deduced people. He didn't think it was a special talent, nothing to be proud of. He had long believed that his only talent lay in his body, but this was an entertaining trick when he wanted to forget about his own life and focus the problems of others for a change. He turned his attention to the people in the restaurant curiously, working out everything from birthdays and number of pets owned, to menstrual cycles and brands of shaving foam.
John felt the helpless smile creep over his face as he saw Sherlock standing outside Angelo's waiting for him. There was a part of him which had honestly thought that the man wouldn't show up. The very idea that a man like Sherlock could be interested in someone like him seemed absurd. "Sherlock!" He called cheerily, touching the other man's arm to get his attention.
The dominatrix smiled back, his eyes lighting up at the sight of John dressed up in what was clearly a well-worn suit with a tiny hole at the sleeve the smaller man probably hadn't noticed. "You look fantastic" He blurted unthinkingly. John blushed and his smile grew wider.
"Thanks, so do you" They beamed at each other for a full ten seconds before John coughed and gestured to the door.
"Shall we?" He said with a raised eyebrow. Sherlock nodded and they went inside.
It was hot and teaming with customers inside Angelo's, and the couple were greeted by a rather flustered looking overweight man with a straggly beard and a stained apron tied around his waist. "John!" He cried in a deep gruff voice.
"Hey Angelo, how's things?" John replied, shaking the other man's hand.
"Bit cramped in here these days, seems word got out about my famous beef casserole eh?" he chucked heartily. Sherlock couldn't help but smile at him, such a jolly man, even after having such a stressful ordeal since being tried with murder...
"You here on a date you old stud?" Angelo joked, nudging John suggestively and winking at Sherlock.
John ignored the comment "Get us a table you cocky bastard" He grumbled, still smiling as Sherlock leaned forwards and laid a hand comfortably on the small of John's back and kept it there until they reached the table by the window. Angelo eyed the gesture knowingly as he set down the menus for them.
"Best seat in the house, for you and your date" The older man said, grinning.
"Alright bugger off" John muttered with a smile. Sherlock chuckled to himself, there was something very endearing about the small cuddly man cursing like a sailor. He sat down with his back to the room, his gaze instantly drawn to the man seated opposite him.
"John, you should know that I haven't done anything like this before" Sherlock confessed.
"Like what? Dating?" John asked, puzzled. The dominatrix nodded uncomfortably. John shrugged.
"That's OK, I've never had sex with a prostitute before, there's a first time for everything" He said casually. Sherlock choked on the water he had been sipping and a few people stared at him with concern and mild irritation.
"You alright?" John asked with a gentle laugh, reaching out and laying his hand over Sherlock's which was resting on the table. The dominatrix nodded and glanced at their hands, making no move to pull away. He slowly turned his hand palm up, skin brushing against John's lightly. The doctor's pulse quickened ever so slightly as Sherlock ran his fingertips over the inside of his wrist and traced the lines in his palm. The dark haired man was enraptured with their hands, his lips parted and his brow furrowed in concentration. John curled his fingers around Sherlock's and held his hand. The dominatrix and the doctor exchanged glances, warmth and humanity radiating between them.
"I'm sorry if this seems weird" John said suddenly, meeting Sherlock's gaze once more. The pair seemed to have a strange affinity for knowing when the other person was looking at them. The dominatrix didn't seem to understand. "It's just that... I don't really have anyone else." Sherlock's grip on his hand tightened fractionally at these words.
"It's...fine" Sherlock replied, smiling crookedly and lowering his gaze. "It's all fine"
They talked for some time, ordering food and drinks between topics of conversation. John's face hurt from grinning so much, and Sherlock was beginning to see why humans put themselves through all this bother just to find a partner. John was brilliant and funny, and brave, so brave. Sherlock couldn't help remembering the ugly scar he had soothed with his lips that memorable night, and now he had the chance to find out how it had come to be.
It was a terrible thought, to imagine John at war. Sherlock felt humbled by the doctor's stories of the experiences he had, the battle he fought, both political and psychological. Their hands remained joined throughout the whole evening, even when they became sweaty and hot, neither man dared let go.
By the third glass of wine, John was suitably tipsy and Sherlock was beginning to lisp. It happened when he drank, an unfortunate consequence of consuming alcohol to him, but John seemed to find it adorable.
The doctor dangled the bottle in front of Sherlock's face and poured the last drop into the empty wine glass. "Are you trying to get me drunk, doctor?" Sherlock drawled, sipping at the alcohol and peering at John through his dark lashes flirtatiously.
"That depends," John replied, eyeing the dominatrix with something dangerously close to desire burning in his gaze "is it working?"
Sherlock gave a little huffed laugh and smiled faintly, looking at their joined hands and stroking his thumb over John's knuckles affectionately.
By now the restaurant had almost emptied completely, the few couples lagging behind were tripping towards the door drunk on lust and alcohol. The two men seated quietly by the window made eye contact again briefly and John felt his smile falter and die on his lips as he stared into the infinite abyss of those cool blue eyes. "It's getting late" The doctor pointed out, giving Sherlock's hand a gentle squeeze.
The dominatrix nodded "Yeth" he lisped softly. The pair released the other's hand to don coats and scarves, on Sherlock's part. The tall man felt the absence of John's hand instantly, his palm cool and somewhat lonely without something warm and comforting to grasp. They smiled at each other hesitantly and John preceded Sherlock to the door.
Angelo watched the last couple leave with a strange feeling of possessiveness over his friend. John walked confidently forwards, his date shadowing him close behind. The older man cracked a smile and ran his fingers through his greying hair with a chuckle, they would be good together, he could tell. His friend, the broken army doctor he had once known, turned to face his mysterious gentleman, his eyes sparkling with happiness and compassion.
John offered his hand and Sherlock took it gladly, their fingers lacing together tightly as though they had been repeating the action for years. The dominatrix gave John's hand a squeeze again and they set off in the direction of the main road to hail a cab to take them wherever they pleased.
Sorry this is short, I hope this was OK, the next update should be soon. :) Thanks for everyone's continued support, I'm glad this story is well liked! Please review if you can! ~K