Author's note: Hey! Basil again. If you're still reading, thanks for sticking with this fic. Without further ado... Chapter 3!
Oblivious to all of the nefarious plotting and mutual hatred in the general vicinity, John Watson was finishing up his shift at Dunkin' Donuts. Externally, he seemed calm enough, but inside, his thoughts churned like butter in one of those things that churns butter (and is possibly called a butter churn). The scene with Mike had ended uncertainly earlier, and now John had a decision to make.
After Mike implored John to go purchase a Big Mac at John's employers' biggest rival restaurant, he really had only one option in terms of his immediate course of action. Due to the presence of Casper, he had to act like it not only wouldn't happen, but that the idea personally offended him. He gasped and staggered backward, his face a twisted mask of horror, as though physically pushed backward by the shock of Mike's suggestion, which (he tried to convey nonverbally) had been barely within the realm of his conceptualization. Then he placed a hand over his heart and cried, "Mike, how could you say such a thing to me?" At which point he jerked his head slightly in the direction of Casper, hoping to communicate: "We can't speak about this here."
Luckily, Mike seemed to get the hint. He said, with exaggerated enunciation, "Oh, I understand, John. You will never eat a hamburger, ever. It was stupid of me to suggest it to you." Then he turned around and left. The store was abruptly silent. John placed the phone back on the wall. The only sign of Mike's bizarre, theatrical entrance just moments ago was the giant promotional poster that had fallen off the door, now glaringly bright and out-of-place in the middle of the floor. John and Casper exchanged a look, before John said, "I'll put it back up."
As John was affixing the poster in its original location, his phone chirped in his pocket. He stole a glance at the screen. It was a text from Mike that read, "Seriously, though."
John had spent the rest of the day going back and forth about whether or not to heed Mike's advice. Now, he had to decide. He had to do something. Finally, he just decided to YOLO it, as his sister Harry would say. How could he live with himself if he passed up this chance for adventure? Besides, something told him that this outing to get a hamburger could have consequences that would be life changing. And John was so bored with his life, almost any change would be welcome.
He knew he couldn't just waltz in there, though; he wasn't stupid. He had to wear a disguise. So he stopped at Harry's house on the drive home from work. She greeted him with an enthusiastic hug, and he responded by patting her on the back a few times while he tried to expand his lungs enough to breathe in her grip. Finally, she let go of him and stepped back. "How are you, John?" she asked, smiling warmly. He met her eyes with a completely serious expression. "I'm on a mission," he replied. "I need a disguise."
His sister laughed. "What kind of mission?"
"I could tell you," said John, "but then I might have to kill you."
"Okay, then," she replied. "I still can't tell if you're actually being serious or if you're joking, but I expect you won't be making it any easier for me to figure it out. So I'm just going to go with whatever this is. You could borrow a hoodie? Virtually anything would work as a disguise for you so long as it isn't a knitted sweater. You have a weird thing about sweaters."
"I do not!" John protested, but Harry just smiled that infuriating, unfaze-able smile at him. He took the clothes she offered, thanked her and went on his way.
Sitting in his car in the McDonald's parking lot, John felt ridiculous in the hoodie and yearned for an actual sweater. But he pushed the hood up on his head bravely, squared his shoulders, and marched into the restaurant. As soon as he pushed through the door, he was met with the mouthwatering smell of all things greasy and fried. It was somewhat overwhelming. He wished his parents had occasionally bought fast food for him and his sister growing up simply so that he would be more familiar with it. But they had been health food hippies, bless their hearts, and so now he was facing one of the most intense moments of his life all because he had never before had a hamburger.
After waiting in line, he approached the young woman at the cash register. She was smiling brightly and struck John as pretty, with light brown hair braided off to the side of her face: not the kind of person he expected to be working at this hated place. Her name badge read: "Molly Hooper."
"Hi, may I take your order?" she asked.
"Em, yes," said John, clearing his throat. Here it was. There was no going back after this. "May I order a Big Mac, please? And a medium-sized soda," he added as an afterthought.
"Big Mac!" Molly turned around and yelled behind her, before turning back to John and handing him his soda cup. "Would that be all?" she asked politely.
It was at that moment that someone from within the depths of the kitchen yelled back at Molly, "We don't have any left!"
Molly turned around again and addressed the voice. "What?"
A young man emerged from the kitchen and walked up to her. "We ran out of Big Macs," he said.
Molly raised her eyebrows at him, clearly surprised, before turning back to John. She laughed slightly. "I'm not sure if this has ever happened before, but it seems as though we've run out of Big Macs. Can I get you something else instead?"
"What?" asked John, stunned. How, after all this, could he walk out of this place without one of these sandwiches?
Molly hesitated, then began again, "I'm not sure if this has ever happened before, but –"
"No, I heard you the first time, I'm sorry," said John. "It's just taken me a moment to process it. How is this possible?"
"We must have run out of patties, or buns, or special sauce, or another ingredient," explained Molly.
There was a pause.
"I really want a Big Mac," said John.
Molly glanced at the man from the kitchen nervously. "Would you like to speak to the manager?" she asked.
"Okay," said John.
The man rushed off, and soon enough a different man returned. He struck John as rather overdressed for their profession, as he was wearing a fine tailored shirt and a jacket. Didn't he have some kind of uniform? "I am Sherlock Holmes, the manager," he announced upon arrival.
"Yes, alright," said John. "I really would like a Big Mac today. Is there anything you could do about that?"
Sherlock turned to Molly. "Is there a problem with his request?"
"Well, Jones says we're out," she replied. "We just don't have any more."
Sherlock looked at John and narrowed his eyes. "Something tells me there's a reason you want this sandwich so much, besides the body's typical hunger/satiety cycle," he said. "You're wearing a hoodie that is zipped all the way up, which goes directly against current fashion trends. Either you are a hipster, which is unlikely because nothing else about your appearance or mannerisms matches that profile, or you aren't accustomed to wearing hoodies. So: why are you wearing it, then? Perhaps to hide the shirt underneath, which happens to be a very distinctive shirt. I can only see the bottom but I would recognize that fabric and stitching combination anywhere. You are a Dunkin' Donuts employee. You have never had a hamburger before, but your friend and former coworker has encouraged you to try one. Now you're here, secretly, to do just that. Oh. Secretly. I guess I've ruined that."
John blinked, dumbfounded. Finally he said, "That was amazing."
Sherlock looked surprised. "That's not what people normally say."
"What do they normally say?" asked John.
"Give me my fucking hamburger," replied Sherlock. At this John and Molly both laughed.
"And you got all that from the hoodie?" asked John.
"Yes, and also your friend Mike came in earlier today and made quite a stir when he tried the food. He mentioned he would tell you to come around later, as well. You're John Watson, correct?"
"Oh," said John. "Yeah. Too bad there's no more Big Macs, then," he said sadly.
"Listen," said Sherlock. "Why don't you come in tomorrow? You can have a hamburger then, free of charge."
"Well, I guess my secret is out of the bag, so it won't matter if I come in again," said John. He was legitimately worried about his job at this point. There were at least fifteen other customers that must have heard Sherlock's remarks, and news travelled fast in this town. As if reading his mind, Sherlock smirked, "I wouldn't waste time worrying about your employment status. Something tells me your job won't be around much longer regardless of what you do."
John realized the truth of that statement with a sensation of gut certainty – he just knew. Surprisingly, despite his stress at his initial "betrayal," the thought of no longer working at Dunkin' actually didn't bother him that much. Unlike Casper, it wasn't his life's passion.
"Alright," said John, "I guess I'll be back. Thanks." And he addressed Molly, "Thanks especially; I know things got a little weird there."
"It's quite all right," she assured him. "Your friend was weirder."
John cringed. "I can only imagine," he said. "I promise he's not normally like that."
"See you tomorrow, then, John," said Sherlock.
"Bye," said John, and drove back to Harry's house. He could return her hoodie. Although they didn't always get along, she would probably have ice cream he could eat for dinner.
AN: And Chapter 3 is over! Sherlock and John have finally met! Stay tuned for more hamburger-related hijinks. And please review! Thanks for reading. :)/p