"Excuse me."
John sucked in a breath and squeezed his eyes shut before turning toward the nasally voice. Only a little longer.
"How can I help you ma'am?"
The customer thrust her cup against his chest. She was severely obese and sweating profusely which surprised John because the front door was open and a strong breeze was sweeping through the shop.
"This coffee is bitter. Did you even put sugar?" She grunted. "I told you to put sugar."
'Yes, half the fucking bag.'
He'd been on shift at 'The Bean' for four and a half hours and so far the customers he'd served had brought him to a very unstable, simmering rage. Truth be it, he was a crappy barista and Sherlock frequently complained about the way he made his coffee and tea although John made a habit of ignoring his friend's objections. However, this woman had ordered two large coffees, presumably all for herself, and made it unmistakably clear that she wanted it very sweet. John had complied and put enough sugar to put the woman in a diabetic coma.
"Well make it again," She sniffed, "It's disgusting. Don't they teach you anything?"
Other customers were watching the rude woman, some of them throwing sympathetic glances toward him. She was holding up the line and the customers behind her were becoming restless. John forced a smile and narrowed his eyes.
'Oh, I'll make a new one alright.'
"Of course," He said between gritted teeth and yelled over his shoulder "Sarah, take my register please."
He'd been working with Sarah, his quirky co-worker, for almost two years. She had offered him the job in the first place. Sarah was a mature and funny woman who always made his shifts at The Bean entertaining and for the most part, peaceful. Thankfully she was a sweetheart and had been very eager to hire him, possibly because their original barista had left on short notice to elope somewhere in France. In any case, he was grateful and considered her a reliable friend. Every time they worked together she brought homemade pie and they would huddle together to make up stories about the customers they'd dealt with that day.
"I've got you." She patted his shoulder empathetically before asking the obese woman to step aside so she could ring up the rest of the line.
John carried the cups to the back, muttering under his breath the whole way, and slammed them down on the counter. He was so aggravated that he didn't even bother getting new cups or pouring new brew, which was likely considered a health hazard but he was too irritated to care. He yanked open the cupboard over the counter dragging the half full bag of sugar out. He popped off the tops of the cups, setting the aside and positioned the bag over the liquid.
"I'll give you sugar alright." He grumbled and proceeded to divide the rest of the bag between the two cups. He could see the mound of crystals beginning to peek through the top of the coffee.
"God, she's awful." Sarah walked in and tucked her hair behind her ears. "She took all of my samples."
John laughed lightly and replaced the tops on the cups. "Sherlock would have a field day with her."
Sarah smirked at him. "Oh yes. How's was your visit with the in-laws?" She plucked the cups from his hands and leaned on her hip against the counter.
"It was great. They're really wonderful," He paused and rolled his eyes at her, "They're not my in-laws. How many times have I told you? Sherlock is not my boyfriend."
She snorted loudly and made her way back to the obnoxious customer. "You keep telling yourself that John. Whatever helps you sleep at night," She cackled,"You know, in his bed of course."
"That's why I don't tell you anything!" John yelled. He could feel the heat prickle under his cheeks. She was relentless. "I'm taking five."
"Tell Sherlock I said hello," She yelled back to him "...and that he should just ask you out already because it's getting kind of pathetic watching you come in all lovesick over him."
He shot a dark look in her direction before exiting through the side door. There was a plastic crate flipped upside down next to the loud metal fan protruding from the wall. The breeze felt good on his warm skin. John yanked his phone from his pocket and sat on the crate, resting his head against the wall behind him. The phone read a quarter to five. He'd be going home in less than an hour.
'Thank fuck for that.'
John noticed there were eleven unread text messages, all from Sherlock. His heart jumped in fear. He scrolled through them as quickly as he could.
Where are you John?
SH
John?
SH
Are you ignoring me?
SH
John.
SH
John, I know you don't have class this late.
SH
John.
SH
John.
SH
John.
SH
You're at work aren't you?
SH
JOHN.
SH
John, I am coming to your job.
SH
He let the phone fall to his lap and rubbed at his eyes. Great. The last time Sherlock visited John at work, it was to inform him that he'd accidentally set his sofa on fire. Not to mention he hadn't even attempted to extinguish the flames, he just let them eat away at the sofa until Lestrade ran up with the fire extinguisher. At least he'd gotten a new sofa from it; paid for and carried up the steps by a complaining Sherlock. John didn't even want to think about what shenanigans Sherlock had gotten himself into this time.
You better not have set anything on fire again.
-John
I'm so serious.
-John
He slipped his phone back in his pocket as he stood up. As he turned, he miscalculated the angle of the fan and proceeded to walk face first into the metal cage.
"SHIT." John cupped his right eye with his hands. There was a searing pain around his orbital bone and he saw stars from his left eye. He stumbled back and leaned against the wall. John moved his hand away from his face and blinked rapidly. "Oh hell. That's gonna leave a nasty bruise." He rubbed around his eye and made a dramatic arc around the fan before slipping inside the shop.
He caught his reflection on one of the coffee machines. A vivid purple ring was already forming around his swollen eye.
"John, what the hell happened." Sarah rushed forward and cupped his face, tilting it toward the light on the ceiling.
"I had row with the fan out back," He grunted in pain as she gingerly touched his face, "It won."
Sarah dropped her hands from his face and grinned at him.
"Clearly," She tilted her head."It's pretty badass. Sherlock might like it."
John made a futile attempt to roll his eyes at her. "You're definitely going on my list of worst friends ever."
She wrinkled her nose and jiggled her shoulders in a little dance. "I'm the best and you know it."
He moved past her to the front register and reached under the counter to retrieve his book bag. His face was throbbing and he always kept a little bottle of Aspirin in his bag just in case. Sarah appeared next to him with a cup of water.
"Thanks," He popped the pills in is mouth and took a swig of the water, "I should warn you, Sherloc-"
"JOHN." The door slammed open against the wall.
"- is on his way." He trailed off. Sherlock, all legs and high cheekbones, stalked over toward the register. The other customers gawked at him in obvious shock of his loud and obnoxious entrance.
John sighed deeply.
"John, whats on your face?" Sherlock pointed a finger, centimeters away from John's injured eye.
He grimaced and slapped Sherlock's hand away. He opened his mouth to speak but Sarah beat him to the punch. "He walked into a fan."
Sherlock contemplated this. "Typical." He shook his head.
John flipped them both off. "I don't get off for another thirty minutes so go sit somewhere and try not to terrorize anyone." He pleaded.
Sherlock flashed him his best smile.
Thirty minutes later John was still apologizing to Sarah. Apparently it was too much for Sherlock to handle because he made his way around each table and deduced every single person in the shop, making half of them cry. Sarah, bless her soul, hadn't fired John or killed Sherlock, though he wasn't sure he would practice the same restraint. She simply laughed and waved him off.
"See you tomorrow John. Bye Sherlock. Stop harassing my customers."
Sherlock opened his mouth to speak but John pulled him by his arm and dragged him outside. As soon as they were on the sidewalk and away from the inside of the shop, John glared at Sherlock.
"You did say try, John."
He watched Sherlock squirm for a minute before bursting into laughter.
"That made me feel so much better." John winced as he accidentally brushed a finger over his purple eye. "I had the worst day."
Sherlock's lips twitched in amusement. "Oh?"
"God Sherlock, you should have seen this one lady. Ohmygod, you would have had a picnic with her. She was just," John shuddered, "Horrendous. I'm pretty sure her pancreas is going to fall out of her belly button or something."
Sherlock chuckled. "Interesting choice of words. Although highly improbable if not ridiculously dramatic."
John looked around and realized they hadn't moved. "Can we walk today? It's not far from home."
The air was warm but refreshing. The sidewalks were packed with people who apparently had the same idea. Being cooped up in The Bean and dealing with the most ridiculous customers had left John feeling claustrophobic and he had the urge to stretch his legs and walk.
"Certainly."
John slid his book bag over his shoulder and shuffled into the pace of the crowd. "So, what did you do today? Beside blow up my phone."
Sherlock struggled to keep pace with John's short strides. "Lestrade required my assistance on a case."
"Oh." John said in a small voice. He hated not being able to drop everything and run around the city with Sherlock. Even though many times it left him dehydrated, starving, in need of a bath and beaten-up, he couldn't deny his love for the adrenaline spike he got when the case took them on a particularly dangerous course. "How was it?"
"It was the maid. Very boring." Sherlock threw a sideways glance. "You didn't miss anything of importance."
"Good to know." John grinned to himself and ran a hand through his hair.
"John, look." Sherlock grabbed him by the shoulders and pivoted him toward a grey, stone building across the street.
"I don't see anything" John knitted his brows."Where am I looking?"
Sherlock sighed. "As usual, you never cease to amaze me with your unyielding ignorance." He pointed at the building. "Look closely, what do you see?"
Through the glass doors John could see a line of people standing still and smiling in the same direction. "Um, there's a group of people," He squinted, "They're all dressed up and there's flowers everywhere. The men are in suits and the women are in dresses..." He trailed off. One woman in particular was in a large white dress. Oh.
"A wedding?" John looked back to Sherlock who was wearing a devious grin.
"A wedding John."
"And this means?" John stared at him confused. Was he implying they get married or something?
"Let's go." He grabbed John's arm and made a beeline for the building.
"Woah! Woah! Wait. Sherlock, wait. We can't just," He waved his arms in front of him. "...go to a wedding! We don't even know them!"
Sherlock scoffed. "Oh John, I envy you. Always playing by the rules. What's that ridiculous phrase you say to me? Let your hair down every once in a while."
John couldn't believe what he was hearing. Sherlock, of all people, wanted to crash a wedding just because he felt like it. Not that it didn't sound like fun, it was just shocking coming from him.
"Sherlock, we can't crash a wedding." He blinked at the genius.
"Of course we can. It's very simple. We'll go through the back. If the bride and groom are still in the lobby then the guests are already in the dining hall waiting for them to make their grand entrance." He rolled his eyes, "We'll blend right in."
John blanched. "We still have a problem."
Sherlock pinched the bridge of his nose. "Oh dear lord, what now John?"
He gestured to his work uniform. "I'm not exactly in proper attire and it's not like I carry my wardrobe in my bag."
Sherlock pursed his lips and slipped off the jacket accompanying the suit he was already wearing. "You trousers are fine. Just put this on."
John sighed and let his bag slip off of his shoulder. He yanked his work shirt off and stuffed it in his bag. "We're not exactly the same size you know." Buttoning up the jacket, he stuck his arms out letting the extra fabric on his arms dangle.
Sherlock reached forward and folded the sleeves neatly up to his wrists. "There. You don't look completely inappropriate."
John gave him a flat look and pulled his bag over his shoulder. "Lead the way."
They did in fact get in through the back. There was door that lead them through the kitchen. Sherlock walked right in past the confused kitchen staff. Passing through the kitchen doors, they were led to a dimly lit hallway. Music was pulsing through the speakers and they could barely hear each other. Sherlock led them to the reception hall, blending right in among the sea of people. He had a firm grip on John's arm and pulled him past the unsuspecting guests. John tugged on his arm.
"Where are we going to sit?" He brought his lips up to his friend's ear.
Sherlock simply nodded his head to a semi empty table in the corner secluded from the rest of the party. When they got closer, John could see there were three elderly people sitting, looking exhausted. 'Probably past their bedtime.' John snickered to himself.
Sherlock let go of John's arm and extended his hand toward one of the elderly women. She glanced up at him in awe and put her wrinkly hand in his. He bent down and brought his lips to her hand.
"Good evening," His voice sounded like liquid gold, "Are these seats taken?"
She covered her mouth with her other hand and giggled. "No, my dear boy. By all means, have a seat."
"Thank you." He flashed a smile at her before moving to pull a chair out for John.
'What the hell.'
John stared at Sherlock like he had three heads before sliding into his seat.
"I'll be right back." Sherlock spoke into John's ear before turning in the opposite direction and venturing into the crowd. John held his hand out to the woman. "Hello, I'm John."
"Hello dear, It's very lovely to meet you. I'm Maude." She clasped his hand. "These old geezers are Midge and Henry" She nudged their shoulders.
Henry jerked awake at the movement as he'd been nodding off.
"WHAT?" He shouted, looking momentarily confused.
"THIS IS JOHN" Maude yelled into his ear and nodded her head in John's direction.
"WHAT'S GONE?" Henry yelled back.
"JOHN" She grabbed his face and turned it in John's direction. He gave an idle wave.
John could see Henry make the connection. He held his hand out across the table and shook John's hand.
"Nice to meet you son." Henry tapped the shoulder of the woman next to him. "Midge, wake up."
Midge glared at Henry for interrupting her sleep. "WHAT?"
"JOHN." He hollered and pointed a finger in John's direction. She blinked at looked at him.
"Oh, hu'llo dear. " Midge waved her crooked fingers.
"Are you with the bride or groom, love?" Maude rested her hand on his shoulder. John's brain shut down momentarily. ' '
"Erm, the bride." John looked over his shoulder for Sherlock.
"I figured as much. Beautiful place isn't it?" She sighed in content
It was a beautifully decorated room and it was huge. There were dozens of tables donned in pale yellow table cloths and flowers scattered around a very large tile dance floor. White roses weaved around the arch way of the door that led into the grand hall. Just in front of the dance floor was an oval table with the center cut out for a large bushel of white roses and a magnificent crystal chandelier dangling overhead. The room was absolutely filled to the maximum capacity with people holding wine glasses and pointing at the various ornaments that decorated the venue.
"It is." He smiled.
"Where did your boyfriend run off to?" Maude patted his hand and looked out into the crowd.
"Oh, he's not my boyfriend. We're just friends." He continued his visual sweep over the swarm of people.
"Don't worry dear, there's all sorts around here." She winked.
He turned to look at her, "No really-"
"Here you are John." Sherlock appeared out of thin air with two wine glasses in his hands. 'That's where he went.'
"Thanks"
"No one ever puts their friends at the same table with grandma and grandpa. It dampers the high." Sherlock leaned and spoke quietly into John's ear, not helping his case.
Maude winked at him and John turned bright red. He cleared his throat and took a sip of the wine. "I was just telling Maude here, that we're friends with the bride." John smiled tightly at Sherlock, who only chuckled. Just as Sherlock began to speak, the DJ's voice rang over the speaker.
"Will everyone please stand for the bride and the groom."
The sound of scraping chairs against the floor resonated in the hall as everyone stood up. The three elders at their table didn't stand but sat back even further into their chair. Sherlock loomed closely next to John, leaving him with a fluttering feeling in his gut. He bent to John's level, "The groom is sleeping with the bride's maid of honor." John's jaw dropped and he turned to face Sherlock.
"What? No. How? " John spluttered.
"Watch how his gaze is always focused on the woman in the lavender dress. If you look closely, you can see he's slightly turned in her direction. There's a crease on her dress, just around her knees, that is not present on any of the other bridesmaid's dresses. Considering that her breasts are spilling out, I'd say it's safe to say that that crease didn't come from the dress being poorly fitted. The groom's zipper has slightly fallen and his shirt is no longer tucked in as it was when they were taking photos. His jacket is also buttoned improperly and the flower that was pinned to the lapel is now crushed. There is a petal in her hair. "
"Really?" John looked at the genius, who only nodded. "Are all marriages doomed to divorce?" He grumbled.
"Yes." Sherlock grinned before they were all allowed to take their seats.
Soon after the happy couple had made their grand entrance, everyone was served their first course. John felt increasingly worse with every bite he took. He made up for the free loading by cutting Maude's rare steak for her. John was slightly nauseated at the thought of her eating a practically raw steak but said nothing. He stared at her plate with wide eyes until she noticed and smacked his shoulder. Sherlock picked at the vegetables on his plate but hadn't touched much more. John let out a boisterous laugh when Midge had accidentally flung a piece of her mashed potatoes at Sherlock and it landed on his cheek. Henry was leaning back in his seat, mouth slightly agape, sleeping and missed the whole meal entirely.
A few children had run by, clad in tiny dresses and suits. One of them climbed straight into Sherlock's lap and grabbed a fistful of broccoli before stuffing it into his little mouth. Sherlock gawked at the child in either disgust or shock. John couldn't really tell. Probably both. The boy looked at John and climbed over Sherlock's legs. He sat on the plate that was in front of John, smearing his bottom with food, and continued munching on his half eaten broccoli. He reached forward and dug his hands into John's hair, food and all, before hopping off the table and running after the other children.
Sherlock smirked and folded his arms over his chest. John kept a straight face and excused himself to the restroom. He ran a wet hand through his hair, trying to get the tiny green clumps out without smearing them. A few drunk men stumbled in; one of them stunk like vomit and proceeded to undress as if he was home alone. John ran out before they could notice his presence. Making his way back to the table proved to be an adventure all on it's own. He had two drinks spilled on him, three people shoved into him, someone stepped on his foot and another elbowed him in the back. He all but collapsed into his chair when he finally made it to the table.
"Where'd he go?" John yelled to Midge. Sherlock had disappeared again leaving John momentarily panicked.
'Please god, tell me this git didn't leave me here by myself because tonight will be the night I strangle him.'
Midge couldn't hear him over the loud music. "What was that?"
John pointed to the seat where his friend had been stationed earlier.
"Oh! Your boyfriend took old Maude to the dance floor." She yelled across the table.
As if on cue, Sherlock appeared one arm resting lightly on Maude's waist and the other holding her hand. They swayed elegantly to the music. It was a particularly humorous sight. The little old woman barely reached his shoulders and had her feet on top of Sherlock's as he adjusted to the height difference. She had her head thrown back in laughter. Sherlock had a slight grin on his face as he watched the old woman allow herself to be swayed off of her feet. Literally. John pulled out his phone and snapped a few pictures, sending one to Greg, Molly and Irene.
"Will you dance with me?" A small voice snapped John out of his thoughts. He looked to the source of the voice and saw a small blonde girl, wearing a pale green floral dress, tugging on his jacket. "Mister." She blinked at him.
He looked around for her parents but didn't see anyone looking for her. "Where are your parents?" He bent down to her level.
She pointed at a couple three tables down. "Over there." She stared back up at him.
"Tell you what, if you get permission from your parents I will gladly dance with you." He smiled gently at her. She nodded vigorously before running to her table. John looked back toward his friend and his dance partner. The song had changed tempo and they were moving accordingly.
"My mum said okay." The little girl tugged on his jacket again. John looked to her parents, who nodded and raised a glass to him.
"Well little lady, I believe I owe you a dance." He stood and held out a hand to her. She stuck her warm, chubby hand in his and led him to the the dance floor. John mirrored Sherlock's position and placed the little girl on his feet while holding her hands above her. She giggled maniacally when he began to sway to the music. She threw her little head back, her blonde ringlets cascading down her back.
John smiled at the little girl who was having the time of her life. He looked up to find Sherlock staring right at him. He raised his eyebrow and smiled before turning back to his tiny dance partner. They danced for fifteen minutes before she let go of his hands to wrap her arms around his legs and ran off.
"You've been abandoned." Sherlock's deep voice traveled past John's ear. He sighed deeply.
"Yes, It would seem so." He faced Sherlock. "Where's Maude?" She was nowhere to be found.
"Loo. Apparently all the movement disturbed her bladder." He shrugged. John bumped his shoulder into Sherlock's bicep.
"You looked pretty dashing out there. I'm pretty sure every guy in here is fighting for their girlfriend's attention now." John laughed.
"They're all incompetent on their own." Sherlock sniffed. "Would you like to dance?"
'What.'
For what seemed like the hundredth time that night, John's synapses faltered and was rendered speechless.
"Erm, with you?" He squeaked.
Sherlock rolled his eyes and held his hand out, "No, with the boogeyman."
John stared at his hand briefly before covering it with his own. "Okay."
"I don't think I need to step on your shoes." John grinned nervously as he was led deeper into the dance floor.
He was pressed tightly against Sherlock's firm chest, trying not to hyperventilate. It was just a dance.
'Just a slow dance between two best friends, yes, because that's clearly-'
"Breathe John." The corners of Sherlock's lips were turned up slightly.
John sucked in as much oxygen as he could without passing out and nodded in reassurance. Sherlock stared a moment longer before taking the first step. John tried really hard not to step on his toes but he knew he caught Sherlock's feet a couple times. He never faltered or acknowledged John's mishaps and continued their waltz as gracefully as he did with Maude. John eased into the dance and became gradually more relaxed, eventually resting his head against the genius's chest. He smelled faintly of coffee and pine from his soap.
John tried to stifle the large yawn in against Sherlock's chest but of course the detective noticed.
"Ready to go home?" He looked down his nose. John just nodded. They stopped mid-dance and made their way to their table to say goodbye. They both kissed the women on their cheeks. Maude had snagged Sherlock and John into a tight group hug. Henry was still sleeping so they didn't wake him.
The pair made their way back to the street.
"I'm knackered." John yawned. "That was surprisingly more fun than I thought it would be."
Sherlock chuckled and hailed a cab. They climbed in and watched as the city lights passed blended into one another. John rested his head against the window and shut his eyes.
"Sleep John, I'll wake you up when we get home."
He didn't reply. He simply drifted off into a deep slumber, the smell of coffee and pine radiating around him.