'Cause every time
You come around
Love you take my breath away
But the truth is
She has no idea
That I'm even here
No Idea - Dirty Work
yeah this one is kind of sherlolly but not really, i just thought it would be fun to write johnlock from and outsiders pov
I honestly don't know why I still bother. Stop being so pathetic, Molly I scold myself as I frantically search my room for something to wear, he never notices you anyway, what difference is a dress going to make? We're going out, just to the pub for dinner but I always make an effort whenever Sherlock is involved. Not that he'll take any notice. I mean it was hard enough to get his attention before when it was just me, an empty playing field; now I've got a competitor, and he's winning by a long stretch. Still, I pin my hair up with upmost care and choose a very specific lipstick colour. One more time, one more feeble attempt before I give it up as a 100% lost cause.
As I predicted, Sherlock barely glances at me when I arrive (though Greg's jaw practically drops. And although it's not him I wanted a reaction from, I'll take it as a compliment.), he has eyes only for his blogger and has ever since their first meeting. He has no idea that I'm even here. God, I never thought i would be this hopelessly infatuated, I never thought I'd find a man I would fight for so badly, and I never thought I'd be competing against a guy.
Dinner is pretty much torture. An hour of murder and crime scene discussion with a smattering of normal conversation when Sherlock stops to think and stare and it's just me, Greg and John.
Greg, especially, is very sweet. He's such a great listener and I think he can see what I'm going through. I'm not an idiot, I know he likes me, and the way this meal is going I'm thinking maybe I will let him take me out.
At one point John brushes crumbs of Sherlock's chin with his thumb, then catching Greg's raised eyebrow and my disappointment, blushes furiously.
Eventually I can't stand to sit with them a minute later so go to the bar and order a particularly lady-like half pint of larger.
"Rough night?" a voice behind me asks jokily.
When I don't respond, Greg sits down next to me and gets himself a drink too. It's over a minute before he speaks. "Do you think they know they're in love?"
I turn round at his words, following his steady, calming gaze to the booth we had just vacated to give the 'happy couple' space. The two of them are huddled together, giggling, their hands so close together I can't quite tell of they're linked. I manage a small smile, but my heart plummets right down to my stomach.
"No, I think they have no idea."
I must have sounded sad though because Greg's fingers brushed my hand and he said sympathetically "I really am sorry Molly." and he sounded genuine.
"it's fine," I try to shrug it off, "as long as they're happy..."
"Yeah I guess, but anymore sexual tension and they're both gonna explode or something!"
I laugh. I do like Greg, he makes me laugh even when I don't feel like it.
I'm just about to turn back to the bar to ask him out when the clink of cutlery against china and that unmistakeable sharp intake of breath made me snap back round.
They're kissing. Not much, not excessive, but enough. Even an outside observer could probably tell this was the culmination of several months unresolved sexual tension. John has his hand cupped over Sherlock's face, stroking his thumb along those admirable cheek bones. Even since we've been talking they've edged even closer, the detective (I would say my detective but that's evidently not the case) has his fingers curled into the wool of Johns hideous jumper (one of many).
"Bloody hell..." says the voice beside me.
"Well," Greg continues after a pause, "took them long enough."
"I'm happy for them." I almost whisper, more to try and convince myself. And I am, I mean if Sherlock is happy then I should be too right? He can do whatever he wants with his life, I'd just rather it was me than the short army doctor.
Yeah I said it. I'm jealous, fine. I'm not going to deny that I would give anything for it to be my waist that he wraps his arms around, my tongue that he slowly, teasingly allows access to, my hair that ends up tousled from the kiss. But it's not mine, its John Watson's. he's not mine, he's John Watson's. He's got no idea that I'm even here, while john's around, and ill just have to accept that. Watching, waiting from the sidelines. And I will wait. Yes I am that pathetic. I stand by my resolution to give Greg a chance, but he's not Sherlock Holmes and he never will be.
So wadaya think? please t ell me i need people to tell me their feels or i assume no one gives a shit.
atm im working on oh calamity, that girl and damned if a do ya. also i have another set of johnlock shorts called 'a johnlock collection' which is pretty similar to this except less music-y i guess. yeah so tbh if you like this shit youll probably like that shit :)
love yall xx