Disclaimer: I don't own. Wow, what a surprise, I know.
Hello everybody, it's as always a pleasure to have you here. I hope you are going to enjoy this chapter and be a little happy, as this chapter is a little less touchy-feely and a bit more like fairy dust, you know. ;) But only a bit.
Please read and review, but over all enjoy yourselves! :D
Well, this had most likely been the most embarrassing interview in the whole history of time. But hey, he had made it through anyway. There were only so many interviews of that calibre left and then he would be able to talk about his fans strangely off-setting association of him as an otter. It couldn't qualify as his favourite topic to talk about, but it was better than John. Everything was better than John right now.
Sherlock hid his face in his hands, sighing.
Should be fun.
This was the exact moment that John decided. The precise moment that John decided that it couldn't go on like this, just couldn't. He wasn't able to stand this.
There must be a way out of this, no? There must be.
John had searched for a flat and had actually found one, right next to the park. It was far from anything beautiful or inviting, but it did its job. It was better than having to sleep on a bench, the stench of alcohol and puke penetrating his nose ever so slightly.
But still, something felt off. And John knew exactly what it was.
But how do you fix this? How do you contact Sherlock Holmes? He would surely be stamped as another fanatic fan, trying to reach his idol. But he wasn't.
He was just John. Only looking for the person he loved. Why must things always be so difficult?
Sarah would surely expect him to beg for his return now, for him to roll in the dirt in front of her feet. But well, that wasn't the plan. Haha.
Hmm... who was that Greg guy again?
Greg tried to flash Sherlock his most reassuring smile, before turning to the whole set. "Attention-attention-please!"
He shouted, all the attention suddenly centred on one point of the room. This was Sherlock staring absently at the wall, looking even paler than the most time.
Azog the defiler.
Sally giggled.
"So, now that we're all silent, I'll start." He cleared his throat. "This is our last day here on the set, maybe for forever. If you could please-"
Greg shushed Anderson. "Please."
"Okay, right. I'd like to thank you for all the wonderful support and help. The new season has turned out perfectly well, applaud yourselves."
The crowd cheered themselves and Sherlock sniggered despite himself. Who was the most arrogant in this room?
"And thank you, especially Sherlock, for being such flawless actors. Thank you!"
"Sherlock? Flawless?" Anderson sputtered all amusement.
"Tops you by far." Greg hissed, stepping in front of Sherlock as if to protect him.
"Ooh, oh. Why so protective? Shouldn't 'John' be the one to do that job?"
"Let him out of this!" Sherlock cried, letting himself fall against the wall for support when done. This was too much. Too much.
Sally made an O-shape with her mouth. "Oh, did he leave you?"
"Please." Greg tried to interfere, but was soon interrupted by An-
"Oh, shut up." He sassed.
"You better shut up soon Anderson."
"And why that?"
"We need him here, Sherlock, seriously we do." Greg patted Sherlock on the shoulder. "Without him you would all live on the streets, that's why. I don't even know what you're doing here anyway, Anderson. (?)"
"Oh, you know, I- um-." Anderson coughed. "I, you know, do your dishes- and things."
"Do you now? Isn't that Mrs. Hudson's job?" Greg raised an eye-brow.
"Erm..."
Sherlock giggled, for once grateful for Greg's presence and sass. And, honestly, Anderson just really deserved this. This and far more.
Greg ordered tequila, happy about the final moment of peace at the end of this so very long and tiring day. But, they were finished, at least with filming. It would still take some time, but then it would be just perfect, like always.
Greg sighed in content.
Until a hand tapped on his shoulder. "Erm... hello? You're Gregory Lestrade, right?"
"What?"
Just what he had needed, another one of these idiotic fans. Or wasn't he?
"You're that John Watson guy, aren't you?" Greg circled around John. "You really are. God, you shouldn't be here."
Greg looked at him, sorrow filling up his eyes. "He isn't happy, you know."
"He?"
"Sherlock. Who else?" Greg cleared his throat. "I'd like it better if you were to leave now."
"Why is that so?" John asked, a little caught up with a small group of people entering the room.
"You have hurt him, you know. His ice had been cracking for once and you destroyed it, destroyed him. He is now even more screwed up than before." Greg laughed ironically. "I just couldn't bear the thought of chattering away with the man who broke him, understand?"
Greg looked frantically around the room, his eyes searching.
"I'd just like to contact him one last time, you know- say sorry." John stammered.
"No." Was Greg's easy answer.
Greg's drink was finally there and he received it with great pleasure. The smell was so calming, hmm. Just what he needed. However there was someone in this room he didn't really need right now.
"Please leave now, okay?"
"No!" Answered John, feeling relentless. "I will not go before you give me his number."
"Well, I'll leave before then. Please?"
"No." But this time neither John nor Greg said a word. Behind the bar stood a broadly smiling, curly-haired actor. "Enjoying your drink?"
Greg's glass fell onto the ground, splashing its contents onto the floor.
Sherlock shrugged. "Well, no longer as it seems. Want another?"