A/N: Sorry for the hiatus. Hope you enjoy the latest chapter regardless!

"Well, men," said the bland-looking man from Corporate that John had never before seen in his life, "It seems as though this branch of Dunkin' Donuts is closing." He paused dramatically, before continuing, "For good. Kaput. No more. We will not be opening up tomorrow. Or ever again."

It was all John could do to refrain from rolling his eyes. "I never saw it coming," he said drily. Then he glanced over at Casper to see how he was taking the news. He did not seem to be doing well. His mouth hung open, but he wasn't making any sounds save for a slight shallow rasping noise that must have been breathing. His eyes appeared glazed with a film of tears.

"That's really all I have to say," said the Corporate man. "I've served my purpose to further the plot, so I'll be leaving now." He exited briskly the way he came, through the front glass door of the Dunkin' Donuts. John was left alone with Casper.

He reached a hand out and patted the kid on the back awkwardly. "It's okay," he tried to reassure him, "Was it really that important? It wasn't, I don't think. We can move on to bigger and better things!"

John knew it was the wrong thing to say when he was met with a twisted grimace he had never before seen grace Casper's features. "NOT YOU, TOO!" he screamed, before pushing John's arm away roughly and running full tilt through the door. Luckily, the door opened out, or Casper would have been flat on his back, probably concussed.

Recovering quickly from this slightly sad turn of events, John crossed the floor over to the glass entrance, pushed aside the obnoxious promotional ad there, and peered out at Casper's swiftly diminishing form. He seemed to be running towards the filling station…

Jim Moriarty had recovered from bumping his head in the mini-mart and the subsequent temper meltdown that had ensued, and was now seated placidly behind the counter, daydreaming about overthrowing Sherlock Holmes' regime on Baker Street. How he hated Holmes, that soul-less bastard. He imagined the health department shutting down Holmes' restaurant due to an anonymous tip of a minor code infraction (his tip, of course). He imagined gloating from the seat of a bulldozer as he smashed into the walls of the building and leveled it to the ground. He smiled a small smile and blew bubbles with his spit. Life was peaceful.

At that moment, a skinny, gangly adolescent charged into the mini-mart, sobbing forcefully. Moriarty pushed the bathroom key over the counter towards the boy, but he ignored it, crying even harder. Finally he asked tentatively, "What's wrong with you?"

The boy took several gasping breaths. "I lost my job," he finally managed to say. "At – at –" and at this point he recommenced his sobbing. Moriarty took in his work uniform that was clearly from Dunkin' Donuts, and the gears in his cold mind began to turn. "Pity that Sherlock had it out for you," he said casually. The boy shut up instantly, turning his red-rimmed stare on Moriarty. His gaze was surprisingly intense.

"Who?" he asked, taking the bait.

Moriarty bit back a smile. "Oh, Sherlock Holmes, the manager at the McDonalds. He's hated Dunkin' Donuts ever since it opened. He's been plotting to shut it down for months." It was technically sort of true.

"Why?" asked the boy incredulously.

"I have no idea." Moriarty shrugged. "Some people are just hateful and generally terrible."

Darkness passed over the boy as his innocent face transformed into one that was hardened and angry. "He'll pay for this," he said.

"That would be good," agreed Moriarty.

Sherlock Holmes paced around the kitchens of the McDonalds, which was no easy feat. There wasn't a lot of extra space back there. It was 11:42 AM, and John still had not returned for his promised hamburger. Sherlock had been sure he would come in early, before he went to work, but he hadn't shown. Doubts flooded his mind. Did John not care anymore? Had he decided it wasn't worth the trouble to come back? Had Molly scared him away? He would have to talk to Molly about being intimidating to customers. He threw his hands up in despair, elbowing a young woman he believed was a fry cook in the side of the face and causing her to stop short, which caused another employee to crash into her and drop the stack of pies he'd been carrying. He chided them in annoyance. Why was everyone always getting in the way?

Just then, he looked up as the door of the store swung open. John entered, wearing a knitted sweater instead of the sweatshirt from the previous night. Sherlock thought it suited him better; in any case, he looked more comfortable in it. John approached the counter and Sherlock heard him ask, "Um, can I get a hamburger? I was in here last night, but you were out or something, so…"

Sherlock burst into view and the man working the cash register stepped aside reflexively to avoid being plowed into. A look of recognition dawned in John's eyes as he acknowledged Sherlock's presence. "Hi," he said.

"Hello," said Sherlock, a little breathlessly. "Let me just get you a Big Mac."

"Okay…" said John. Once Sherlock returned with the sandwich wrapped in a paper bag, John asked, "Sherlock… were you waiting for me?"

"Nope," said Sherlock. "Not even a little bit."

"Okay," said John. "If you say so. Hey… I know you might be busy… but do you want to sit down with me for a minute?"

"Yeah, whatever," agreed Sherlock. "Compared with all of the other absurdities that have happened in this restaurant, me sitting down on the job probably won't cause much of a stir."

They slid into a booth towards the back of the seating area. "You lost your job," Sherlock observed. "Yeah," said John. "I did." He took a bite of the sandwich and dropped it back onto the table in shock as he began to chew. "Oh my gosh," he said, after he finished the bite. "That is an amazing sandwich. What do you put in there?"

"Oh, you know," said Sherlock, gesturing vaguely. "Salt, MSG, probably some beef."

"It's great," said John.

Sherlock smiled. Now that John was out of a job, he wondered if he could convince him to work at his store. He didn't really know in what capacity, he just liked him. Which was unusual, because he typically didn't like anyone, especially people that seemed to find him tolerable.

John looked up at the man sitting in front of him. He was kind of an odd person, he reflected, but he seemed like a decent human being. John didn't have a ton of friends; mostly he hung out at Harry's during his free time and tried to pretend they liked each other, or wrote stories on his own. He wondered if they could be friends, him and Sherlock.

Little did the pair know, as they speculated on the future of their acquaintanceship, that their lives were about to take a dark, unfortunate turn towards evil and unhappiness.

A/N: Bit not good.