When I walked backstage, with Mike, I practically shit myself I was so nervous. The weird thing was, I had no right to be.
Undoubtedly, Mike brought me here to see if I would actually flirt with Sherlock, since he knew I was gay and had a thing for curly hair. Unfortunately, the general rule was "straight until proven gay", so I would have to keep my hormones in check to avoid serious embarrassment. Generally the only safe way to definitely pick up gay men and not straight ones was to head for a gay bar.
"Let's see... Where - Oh there he is!" Mike said, grabbing my arm. I saw a shock of curly, almost-black hair through the crowd of backstage workers, and let Mike pull me along.
When we walked closer, I could see that he was talking to 2 of his band mates, a mousy looking girl with brown hair, and another man with a receding hair line and a small mouth.
Sherlock had apparently changed, into something I wouldn't have pegged the rocker on stage to wear. I would've thought that another T-shirt and ripped jeans would be the norm, but apparently he preferred formal-ish attire, of which consisted a dark blue button-up and a pair of black jeans.
I thought it was a good look for him.
We walked up to the trio, and, not wanting to be rude, waited for them to finish whatever conversation they were having and acknowledge us.
After about 2 minutes, it appeared that wasn't going to happen. The girl appeared to have seen us, but whenever we made eye contact her eyes would quickly flit away. I wasn't sure if I should be offended, but before I could decide a man with dark but graying hair and a strong, rectangle face walked over to us.
"Oy, you guys must be the ones who won those tickets." The man gave a small smile and nodded before elbowing Sherlock in the side, cutting him off mid-sentence. "You, pay attention to this lot, Sherlock. They paid real quid to see ya... well not really, but you know what I mean."
Sherlock slowly turned around, glaring at the man.
"Yes, I can see that. I've known why and how they got here from the moment they walked up behind me." At this he made a vague gesture at Mike. "Wanna-be rock star, but stuck behind a desk working as a medical teacher to a class of students he hates. That one's not much better, a struggling veteran trying to make a life back in London after Afghanistan. A story sure to make anyone but me cry, of course. Now Lestrade, I would appreciate it if you didn't waste my time with annoying fans. You know how i hate that." he ended, and turned back to talking to the mousy girl and awkward-looking man.
Lestrade looked furious, his face beet red and hands clenched at his side. After taking a deep breath and glaring at the back of Sherlock's head as he wandered away, he turned back to us.
"Look, I'm really sorry about that. Yes, he's always a jackass, sorry to burst your bubble. Anyways, you know these guys i guess?" he asked. Mike nodded enthusiastically while I shook my head.
"Why'd you get backstage thingies if you don't know who they are?" Lestrade looked confusedly at me.
"I did nothing. I got dragged here by this one." I stated, jabbing a thumb in Mike's direction. "I really don't care if he's an ass. He makes pretty damn good music."
"That he does. Anyway, this is Molly Hooper, drummer extraordinaire, and that's Bill Wiggins our dorky but lovable bassist. Irene's got off somewhere, she'll turn up eventually." Lestrade glanced over his shoulder as Wiggins scowled but with a smirk on his face that suggested familiarity with the term.
I shook hands with the two as Mike gushed about how he loved their music and they were the best band ever and could I please have your autograph?
I slowly made my way away from the crowd, not really as interested in talking about "you should totally write a song about the feel of rain. It would totally match your hipster punk theme!" as Mike was.
I walked down hallways, searching for a way out of the stadium but getting hopelessly lost. Every door looked the same: peeling white paint and dull metal handles. Finally I saw a glowing neon exit sign and followed the arrow to a red door with a metal crossbar handle.
I pushed the door open with a creak into the cool night air. The door had opened into an alleyway, and the air was fresh but was permeated with the sickly sweet smell of rotting trash. I walked out, shoving my hands into my pockets as my breath fogged the air in front of me. A deep sigh jolted me from staring out at the busy street.
"Judging from the look on your face I'd say you're not a loony here to stalk me. Just trying to escape the monotonous chaos of it all, eh?" a familiar deep drawl sounded from the alley wall behind me. I turned around and saw a familiar man standing behind me, puffing a cigarette with expert fingers behind me.
"Those things'll kill you, 'ya know." I said, not moving from my spot outside the door.
"Not soon enough for me. Life's not interesting enough to not take a few risks now and then. I simply live for the excitement." He said, rolling his eyes and taking another long drag.
"Your life must be pretty rubbish if you think smoking counts as an exciting experience." I said, puffing out a foggy breath.
"I wouldn't say it's too terribly exciting. Nothing compared to the exciting, adrenaline-filled daily of a man such as yourself, I'm sure." his shoulders lurched with a small, breathy bark of laughter.
"No need to be snarky. Just trying to make small talk before I head back to my exciting life." I shrugged, and shifted my weight around awkwardly.
"Well don't let me keep you. You're a busy man. Best get back to the wife you don't have." He dropped his cigarette butt and ground it under his toe. My ears were flushed, stung by his off-putting and rude remarks.
"I will. Good luck with your music and all that." I grumbled, turning on my heel and walking down the alley. I could feel Sherlock's blue eyes boring into my head as I walked out of the alley and out onto the sidewalk. I didn't spare him a second glance as i turned the corner and went to find where Mike parked the car.
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hey guys! thanks for the reviews and all that. Makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside... It's usually weird when people are all gushy about their reviewers... but i feel the need to say something.
anyways, yeah. so here's the much looked forward to chapter two. i hope this was satisfying enough of a first meeting between john and sherlock for you! i thought it was pretty good, at least.
be sure to tell all your little friends and whatnot about my tiny little story. hopefully you guys can actually motivate me to finish a story. usually my problem is i come up with a newer interestinger (shhhh it's a word. i promise. would i lie to you?) story idea, and kinda get sucked into that and forget about the one before. the never ending cycle. /sigh/...
so yeah. hopefully you weren't too disappointed.