Chapter 6, continued
John stares at his phone wondering what has gotten into him. The dark screen seems to be making a mockery of the confusion swirling through his mind. He hasn't seen Sherlock or had a case of his own in over a week, which has left entirely too much time to think. Shifting his weight on the hard park bench where he's been the past half hour, John has to admit that those few hours he's been at Sherlock's side over the past weeks have felt so…well…something. That's hard enough to admit, there's no way he's supplying any more descriptions for it.
John has made a valiant attempt, in his mind anyway, to think around these strange ideas, though so far, all he's done is send a text message to the psychic. The delay in the answer is probably the only answer he's going to get, so he really ought to get up and find something worthwhile to do. He has to face the facts sometime and realize that someone showing up at your job a few times might just be a coincidence, after all, they move in the same circles. Just coincidence. Doesn't mean anything. Certainly doesn't mean Sherlock is into John…
John's phone vibrates in his hand. Ignoring the way his palms have suddenly broken out in a sweat, he swipes the screen, heart pounding in his throat. He reads both messages, starting with his own.
Busy? Interested in a coffee sometime?
The simple answer from Sherlock threatens to burn him alive.
Anytime.
Fingers trembling, John clumsily pecks out a reply.
What are you up to at the moment?
Sherlock's answer is so fast, John wonders if he had it prepared in advance.
I have an interesting case. Busy?
John can't help the grin that takes over his face. Finally, something useful to look forward to!
No. Coffee first?
The next text he gets is an affirmative reply. Sherlock says he will meet John at a small café about three blocks from the park where he is now. John smiles, tucks his phone back into his pocket and starts walking.