Opening night. All the actors were early to call, and that meant everyone was ready, sound-checks done, and warm-ups completed early, too. That also meant everyone was loosing their minds. John was standing with Jessica in the warm-up room, watching actors pace, wring their hands, and mutter to themselves as the atmosphere in the room gathered a larger cloud of tension by the minute. He looked over and saw Sherlock standing in the corner of the room, frowning, but otherwise unmoving.
"You nervous?" Jessica nudged him.
"Me?" John asked. "No, I'm good. Rehearsals are the biggest amount of work. Now I've just got to make sure all the buttons on the sound board stay where they are and I don't miss a cue to turn a mic on. I think I'll be fine."
"No, I mean are you nervous for your date tonight?"
John smiled and his ears turned a little pink. "I'm trying not to think about it right now. I'm sure the closer it gets, the more nervous I'll get. Right now, I need to get through the show."
"Everyone needs to get through the show. These people are going to sweat their make-up and mic tape right off!" Jessica laughed, but it was true. The whole cast and crew was tense and no one was talking to each other.
John looked back over to the corner that Sherlock was standing in and noticed that the actor had pulled his script out and was flipping through it, still wearing a frown. "Hey, I'll be right back." John said, slipping away from Jessica.
Sherlock didn't look up when John came to stand in front of him, he wasn't even aware of his presence. So, John reached out and slowly took the script from the tall actor's hands. Shutting it, he said, "You're going to do great." Sherlock smiled and some of the tension in his shoulders relaxed. "Listen, this is kind of dumb, but," John reached into the collar of his black tech shirt and pulled out a long metal chain with a quarter on the end of it. Pulling it over his head, he said, "This was my grandfather's lucky quarter. He said it helped him do all sorts of crazy feats, so he punched a hole in it and put it on a chain, so he could always have luck on him. He gave it to me before he died and I wear it when I need a little extra luck. But," He held out his hand, "You look like you might benefit from the reassurance more than I would."
Sherlock let out a little chuckle. "I don't believe in luck. But, I would love to have a piece of you up on stage with me. For reassurance." He pulled the chain over his head and tucked the coin away under his shirt. "Thank you."
"No problem. You can give it back to me after we have coffee tonight."
Sherlock nodded. "It's a date." They laughed at the phrase, and before John could say anything else, Brandy was in the room, calling out for everyone to take their places. The show was about to begin.
Their first performance went off without a glitch. The energy from the stage radiated out through the entire auditorium, and the actors fed on the audience's response to it. It was a glorious cycle, and John had to say it was definitely their best run of the show yet. Backstage, everyone was buzzing about, giggling with each other and congratulating one another on a job well done. The sound and light crews had perched themselves on a paint scaffold and were cracking jokes and having fun with the actors that happened to pass by.
"I didn't know I casted extra flying monkeys." James said, crossing his arms and looking up at the crews in the scaffolding.
"We forgot our line, so we improvised!" Reese, the crew chief for lighting called down, earning a laugh from everyone, even James.
"Alright, well, don't hurt yourselves, and don't forget that call is at the same time tomorrow. Good job tonight, guys." The director said as he went off in the direction of the stage.
"John Watson!" A baritone voice yelled from across the seam shop and caused everyone to quickly turn to see who was talking. Sherlock stuffed his hands in the pockets of his jeans and strode forward to stand at the base of the scaffold. "I owe you a cup of coffee and a lucky quarter." He was beaming as he stood there, waiting for John to climb down.
When he reached the bottom, the crew chief turned around to say goodbye to his friends, before he fell in step next to Sherlock. "So," Sherlock began as they pushed open the stage door to the theater and stepped out into the crisp fall air of New York. "I don't know about you, but I'm pumped full of adrenaline from the performance."
"So coffee probably isn't a good idea."
"Wanna just take a walk?"
"That's fine with me." John said as they started off down the sidewalk in the direction of Times Square.
"Why'd you come to New York? Why not do something for West End?" Sherlock asked as he discreetly reached down and pulled John's hand into his.
John smiled at the gesture before saying, "I uh, I fell in love with Broadway when Mum brought me here once when I was little. It's been a dream job ever since. What about you?"
"Pure chance. I wanted to work on West End, but I never got a chance to audition. I was doing a theater internship here in New York and I landed the part of Fiyero on accident, actually. I was just screwing around with a mate of mine while we were cleaning up the stage after a performance, and I was singing and dancing to 'Dancing Through Life'. James was there, talking to the other director, and he offered me the part on the spot."
"Wow. That's not really pure chance, though. You've got real talent." John said.
"Thanks. And you're really good at what you do, too. Not a lot of people appreciate techies, but I've been one before, and I get it. It's tough work."
They continued to walk and talk like that through Time Square, laughing and sharing information about themselves and their interests. The lights on the buildings didn't go out, but that was to be expected from the city that never sleeps, so as the hours ticked away and the number of laps they'd made around the main streets increased, they hardly noticed any time had elapsed at all. That is, until Sherlock checked the time. "Damn. It's almost 2AM."
John shrugged. "I'm not tired."
"Do you want to come over for a bit? I live right there."
"Uh, yeah, I can come hang out for a bit." They walked in silence in the direction of Sherlock's penthouse, and when they reached the front door, Sherlock disconnected their hands to get out his keys and unlock his elevator.
"You've got a really nice place." John said when they stepped out of the lift and into the living room. "Very posh."
"It's the way Mycroft likes to live." Sherlock shrugged.
"Not you?"
"Eh, it's fun at first, but I personally like the small flat setting. But, this is free. And I like free better than anything." They laughed and then grew silent.
It wasn't a comfortable silence, either. It was an awkward, 'what next?' kind of silence that made both men shift uncomfortably in the middle of the living room. "So, uh, I've seen this floor, but what's upstairs?" John asked finally.
"Here, I'll show you." John followed him upstairs and nodded thoughtfully as Sherlock showed him the small library, the entertainment room, and the closed door to his brother's room.
"And what's that?" John pointed to another closed door at the end of the hallway.
"That's my room." When John smiled slyly at this, all awkwardness melted away and Sherlock, his confidence back, interlaced his fingers into the techie's once more.
With his free hand, John reached up and wove the tips of his fingers into the curls at the nape of Sherlock's neck, pulled the tall actor forward, and kissed him very slowly. He tasted like stage make-up and breath mints; a normally bad combination, but John didn't care. He wanted to drink in every sensastion this moment had to offer.
When the kiss broke, John felt as though the air had been sucked from his lungs. Both men were breathing heavily, and Sherlock's pupils were blown so wide, his irises were almost gone. John swallowed once. "Bedroom?"
Author's Note: And I will leave it at that for your imaginations to wander. OR, there is an explicit version of this chapter. Available on both ffn and Ao3