Chapter Summary: Sherlock can't help but to stare at those eyes.
Who is this this man?
How does he know of Sherlock?
Revised: The whole chapter (6/6/17) ouch, past midnight
Chapter Three: Strange Blond
Sherlock stared at his phone willing for Lestrade to arrive on time, unlike every other time Lestrade comes late.
The detective inspector(DI) had invited Sherlock to dinner, and the world's only consulting detective gave in once Lestrade had managed to bribe him with another case. A cold case.
Sherlock checked the time again knowing Lestrade will be late within 30 seconds. He didn't want to be here anyway. Then he heard the sound of footsteps, Lestrade's. However, there was an anonymous one too. High probability of it being a passer-by's.
He looked up as the doors opened, "Finally on time, for once."
Lestrade was talking to someone outside the doorway. His back facing the consulting detective, his posture very casual, his arms out of his pockets, and his eager tone confirmed Sherlock's other claim. Strange Lestrade never mentioned bringing another person. Sherlock frowned as Lestrade gave one final word then turned around toward Sherlock.
"You never mentioned company," Sherlock accused Lestrade.
The Detective Inspector grinned at Sherlock, "Just meet someone interesting today. Thought you might want to check him out."
Sherlock scowled, "Who?"
"Picked him up at the crime scene, thought he might be useful," Lestrade pulled a chair and sat down, "He actually was, well helpful. Don't look at me like that, this guy helped us a lot. He even gave us some hints on how the death was caused."
Sherlock raised a brow, "Lestrade, another one of your idiot friends? I hardly could say that our judgement's intact, you left him outside."
"Shoot!" Lestrade ran back out to look for said stranger. Sherlock hummed as he closed his eyes and leaned back in his chair, waiting for Lestrade to come back with his person. Honestly, coming out once in a while was not bad.
It was horrible. And boring.
Sherlock heard the doors open lightly again.
"Ah, Lestra-," He stopped when his eyes snapped open to a blue eyed, short blond at the door.
Sherlock stared at the short blond headed stranger, and the blond stared back.
The eyeball game went on for half a minute, until a breathless Lestrade ruined it by opening the door on the blond. The wooden door to the private room hit the small man directly between the occipital and parietal region of the head. Sherlock snapped back into reality from his momentary trance.
"At least you found your man, Lestrade," Sherlock coughed trying to cover his surprise. Lestrade hurriedly ran to assist the blond uttering a string of apologies.
The dazed man sat there glancing at Sherlock with a stunned expression. Sherlock noticed recognition as one of the multiple expressions flying across the small man's face. Strange. Lestrade pulled the blond up.
Sherlock couldn't help but stare at the man's eyes. Blue. Vivid blue. Beautiful Blue.
Something tugged at Sherlock's insides, as if old memories wanted to tear out. Sherlock scowled and mentally forced away the sudden feelings. After Lestrade finished helping the blond to the chair. Lestrade coughed embarrassed.
"Introductions. Lestrade, very rude," Sherlock gave his signature grin, Lestrade shot him a look.
"Well Mr I'm-A-Narcissist, this here is John," Lestrade waved at John. Then jabbing Sherlock in the head Lestrade announced, "John. May I introduce to you the most troublesome git in the world, Sherlock Holmes."
Sherlock swatted the detective inspector's hand away and made a face. He noticed that John's eyes widened then softened at the mention of his name.
"Sherlock Holmes," John muttered confirmation, before grinning like one of those little imps. In Sherlock's case, he meant kids. However, John's grin was-charming.
Sherlock was perplexed by the blond's odd behaviour.
Lestrade had already ordered food trying to convince Sherlock and John to eat, not like Sherlock was going to eat anyway.
Especially after that awkward discussion about today's crime scene, Sherlock had smugly described then solved the murder in less than a minute. Of course, solving it, as in how the murder was commenced. Finding the murderer was another story.
John just sat there staring at his food as if he didn't know what to do with it. Sherlock eventually asked for the cold case and the DI reluctantly gave him the file.
He ended up solving that one too.
Sherlock was truly bored to death.
If it wasn't for the unexpected guest, he probably would've left the minute he saw the file about a man who drowned in his vehicle in the bathroom. It was the frog, of course.
Then Lestrade gave up on trying to make the two more sociable, and excused himself.
Sherlock decided to observe the blond, "Afghanistan or Iraq?"
"Sorry?" The blond startled. His close-cropped hair flew up, the tan lines on his face paled a bit, and his near perfect posture faltered a bit. All hinted toward military.
"Which one was it? In Afghanistan or Iraq?" Sherlock replied impatiently.
"Afghanistan. Sorry, how did you...?" John said smiling. Sherlock paused, surprised by John's reaction. Lestrade walked back in, and immediately noticed the pregnant awkwardness pervading the room.
"I see Sherlock, starting to make deductions about John. Stop going into everyone's privacy!" Lestrade hissed.
The blond suddenly jumped up and slammed a hand on the table, startling the two.
"It's alright Lestrade, perfectly fine. He wasn't doing anything weird to me. Now can we just start to eat? Holmes, stuff some nutrients down that empty stomach," John scowled at Sherlock. Sherlock made a stunned offended face, apparently the small man was ordering him around.
Before Sherlock could register what was happening, his hand grabbed a fork and shoved something down his throat. He nearly choked on the food from shock.
Lestrade stared at John astonished, "How in the world did you do that?"
"Just told him to, never thought he would actually listen," John blinked equally surprised.
Lestrade talked to John the rest of dinner, whilst Sherlock was still shovelling food in his mouth. He truly wanted to heave, somehow his brain decided not to listen but keep on eating. Sherlock was truly annoyed by whatever was causing him to continue to devour like this.
Transport was failing to listen to his commands, and he hated it.
"John I'm sincerely sorry but I have to leave. I paid for the food," Lestrade looked at his phone, "I have to run. If you don't mind, I'll be needing you at the scene again tomorrow if possible. Stop looking at me like that Holmes, John gives more input than your quick claims. I know I don't do this often. Look, if you need anything ask Sherlock for my number. I mean there's no escaping the law anyway, you helped NSYPD out today."
Sherlock was deeply offended by the DI's earlier statement; claims? No, he was a professional. If only people could catch up with what he said, then they could actually appreciate 'claims', or 100% accurate facts, he provided each time he went to a crime scene. When he actually felt like helping.
"Watson," John murmured, "John Watson."
The consulting detective was suddenly pulled out from his mind palace as he felt something in his chest knot up, then let go when he heard that name. John must've noticed the grimace on the brunet's face, because he looked extremely concerned.
Which was weird because Lestrade didn't notice, only John did.
"Lestrade, you know, let me order the food if there ever is a next time. Sherlock's not fond of tomatoes." How the heck* did John know of that? As if the blond was caught in headlights, he quickly blurted out, "I mean... it seemed like S-Holmes doesn't-"
Lestrade laughed obliviously and patted the flustered blond on the shoulder. Sherlock, however noticed the very obvious lie.
"Alright, good bye, see you mate."
Sherlock's mind was racing when Lestrade left. He nearly hissed, "Where in the world did you-"
"I'll-I'll explain later. Look Sherlock, I'll see you tomorrow right? I'll just leave now." John muttered softly. Sherlock stood and walked across the room, half expecting the blond to leave too. John just stared after him.
"Just call me Sherlock, no need for formalities. The address is 221B Baker Street," Sherlock turned around as he stepped out the door. A wink and a click, the consulting detective exited the restaurant.
Sherlock needed to see to the blue eyed, blond haired again. This John Watson was a lovely new puzzle, an enigma, shrouded in riddles**, who a perpetual positive air around and about him.
It was only a matter of time before the consulting detective found out who, or what, exactly sent the blond to the one and only; Sherlock Holmes.
*Surprisingly, I'm trying to limit the cursing
*TF2: Oh boy, I wonder which class
Notes: ~Lol. Awkward conversation, I know. Hey!
I couldn't really think of a better way for John, Lestrade, and Sherlock to meet.
Plus, I had already included 'Dinner first.' Drat Lestrade! Why make things complicated, you just met him!
I'm still satisfied though, you guys reading makes me happy. :D
I didn't mean to accuse you, Lestrade. I apologize Lestrade. T^T