A/N: Hello, lovlies! I had fun writing this bit so I hope you enjoy it! don't be afraid to review it or leave me any comments or visit my tumblr (link on my profile) and check me out!
Also, to my fellow Americans, I hope you all exercised your right to vote, whomever you decided to vote for. DFTBA.
As always, I don't own anything. I just play with them. :3
It was a Friday evening and John and Mary decided to have a night in. They'd gotten cozy on the couch and cuddled warm in each other's embrace. With the burning embers of a fire remaining in the hearth, they'd started to watch a movie on the telly. The plot line wasn't particularly exciting and they'd soon grown….distracted. And passionate.
Mary lay atop John, straddling his waist and the blanket was drawn still around her shoulders. She was kissing his neck when the flat door opened up and Sherlock walked in.
The pair of them stopped their actions and watched as he swiftly moved to the chair not far from them. He didn't say anything, nor did they. John and Mary exchanged glances, not quite sure what to make of the situation.
"Sherlock, can't you see—." John started.
"Leave."
"You can't be serious."
Sherlock's gaze quickly shifted to them, wide eyed yet expressionless. "Am I interrupting something important?"
"And what do you need to do here and now that's so important?"
Now, Sherlock looked straight ahead. "I need to go to my mind palace."
It had been a long week for John—they were in the middle of a case and this night was supposed to be his night of relief. Either way, with Sherlock home, that was surely out of the question now.
"You know what, fine."
"John, you're kidding." Mary whispered to him, although Sherlock could clearly hear it.
John stood up and gathered his coat. "Let's just go."
They both composed themselves—they were rather disheveled—and both gave an angry glare at Sherlock before leaving, not bothering to stop the door from slamming behind them.
With the room silent, except for the occasional crack of an ember, Sherlock slipped into the recesses of his mind.
That day, a girl from the shop invited Anna for a night out with her friends. This girl—Amanda—was bubbly and seemed nice, so Anna didn't see why not. This was the first time in a while that she was going out with a group of girls and it felt refreshing. It felt like her early college days.
She looked like her early college days, in fact.
She found a simple, short black dress that hugged her curves nicely and felt nice against her skin. Red heals covered her toes and her hair was pulled up in a loose mop of a bun. Heavy makeup hid the dark, sleep induced circles under her eyes. The lipstick that stained her lips red made her feel especially sexy.
It was a relief when she'd met up with Amanda and her girls; they all looked just like her. They all looked like they needed a good drink. Or several drinks. And they didn't waste any time in moderating the booze.
In the dark club, Technicolor lights around them flashed and waved to the loud music and the bass reverberated in their chests.
They'd been dancing with each other and with strangers in the club. The heat of their bodies filled the space and the rocking and gyrating of hips and limbs became hypnotic. Sweat and musk perfumed the room mixed with strong cologne and cheep perfume.
Slightly out of breath and feeling the need for another drink, the group of girls stepped to the side and over to the bar.
"Courtesy of the man over there." The bartender set down a bright red drink in front of one of the girls and pointed to a man from the opposite side of the bar.
"Oh he's hot." Another said, swaying her hips from side to side.
"Too bad for him, ladies. I'm already taken." She started to slur.
"Lucky bitch." One of them laughed.
"He's all yours. I'll keep the booze, though." One of the other girls went over and approached him and brought him out to dance.
"What's your deal, Anna?" Amanda blurted out over the music.
"My deal?" Anna's head spun in circles and she felt like laughing.
"She means chicks or dicks?"
"Oh, dicks."
Anna's inner self was angry. What if Robert was gay?
Fuck Sherlock for ever bringing anything up. Everything was doing just fine before he ruined it.
"Do you have one?" One girl asked.
"Err. Sort of." She didn't exactly feel like going into specifics of her last date and her unfortunate discovery. And the statements Sherlock made of said date.
"How's the sex?"
"Not happening." Her face flush.
"Why the fuck not! You're hot, I bet he's hot."
"Damn girl, you need to get on that."
"Get some!" One of the girls slammed down a shot and hissed as the liquid went down her throat.
"Why are you even here with us when you could be twisted in the throws of passion with a sex beast?"
Anna snorted into her drink.
Her relationship with Robert seemed almost normal before Sherlock ruined it. There was hope for her again and it pissed her off. She needed things settled out.
"Look's like someone needs to get laid." Amanda laughed out.
"Damn right."
The girls, induced with alcohol, hormones, and the lively atmosphere, started scoping out guys in the room.
"Uh, I would love to have a go with him." Anna could hear one girl say. She ignored the other comments given, as she was rather distracted.
Not only was her head constantly spinning and it was hard for her eyes to focus, but also her thoughts were constantly fixed on Robert and Sherlock. Anna started out angry and pissed.
She did NOT need Sherlock telling her things about guys. If there's something wrong with them, it's her place to figure it out. Not some overly confident detective.
Then she switched to upset and confused.
Why would he feel the need to tell her these things? Why did he need to push Robert away from her—or at least try to? And when Robert kissed her neck or put his hand at the small of her back, why didn't she feel any of that special butterfly feeling?
What was wrong with her? Maybe Robert wasn't actually gay….
She wanted to badly for things to work out with Robert. Maybe too much.
"Anna! There's a hottie checking you out." Amanda nudged her shoulder.
"I don't care." A deep frown settled onto her face and she stood up from her bar stool.
"Where are you going?" One girl, who was getting rather sloppy, grabbed onto Anna's arm.
"I need to see someone."
"Get some!" Another girl slammed down another drink.
"Get some!" Anna yelled back, making her way for the exit.
John and Mary went back to her flat and settled onto her couch. Unlike before, the situation was rather tense and not the ideal Friday night in.
"Why do you let him walk all over you like that?" Mary said from her side of the couch. Her arms were sternly crossed over her chest and she wrapped a blanket firmly around herself, not leaving any room for John.
"I don't—."
"John, yes. You do. It's not fair to you. It's your place, too. You have a say in what's going on."
John sighed because he knew she was right. "It's just easier not to argue with him sometimes."
"He acts like a small child, John! You can't appease him forever. He's going to take advantage of you forever unless you do something about it! You can't just keep rolling over and accepting him."
John leaned forward and rested his arms on his knees. A stern frown formed on his lips. "You're right."
John stood up and walked towards the door, lacing up his shoes and throwing on his jacket.
"Were are you going?"
"To have talk."
"That's my man." Mary swatted his rear end and smiled as he left.
When John got back to 221B, Sherlock remained in the exact same position as he was left. The embers of the fire and died down and no lights were turned on. Sherlock remained in his chair, his hands at his side, and he looked straight forward into space, his expression blank and free.
John turned on a light and walked in front of Sherlock a few times. His concentration didn't falter and he continued to look forward, not even acknowledging his presence.
John ran his hand through his hair. Talking with Mary fired him up but, now that he was there, he didn't exactly know how to confront Sherlock about it.
You act like a spoiled child and it needs to stop and…go have a time out? You need to learn how to share?
Just then, John's pocket began to vibrate. He pulled it out and the screen read 'Anna'. He flipped it open.
"John, let me in."
"Anna, this isn't the best time."
"Uuugh. Pullease. Let me in." Her words mumbled together and he could hear a knocking in the background.
"What was that?"
"Oh, nothing." She huskily laughed.
"Wait. You're pissed."
"No, I'm not. Just pretty please let me in, John. I need to talk with Sherlock."
John was going to ask why but then realized he didn't really care. He looked over at Sherlock again. In any other situation, John would know not to allow her in. But this time, whatever she as to say or do in her drunken state, Sherlock deserved it.
"Yeah, okay. I'll be right down."
Once John opened the door, Anna walked in and John slipped past her out.
"Where are you going?" She turned around to him. John noticed the prominent smell of booze and the short dress. Clubbing.
"Just on my way out, actually." He smiled. "Doors open, though. He's up there. If he doesn't talk to you right away, it's normal. Just…find a way to get his attention" From there, John turned a left back towards Mary's flat with a grin.
Poor chump, Sherlock. He's sure going to have quite the problem on his hands once he gets back from his mind palace.
John outwardly laughed.
He had it coming. Git.
Let me know what you all think and stay tuned for the next chapter to see what Anna does. If you do, I promise it'll be spicy. ;)
