The horns blared loudly as exhaust fumes flooded the streets. John couldn't help but cough when the bus he was walking alongside revved its engine impatiently. The vehicles were at a standstill due to the heavy traffic up ahead and, consequently, the pavements were also a solid mass of human. John sighed under his breath as he was once again shoved in another direction.
Chaos ruled the streets of London... As per usual.
It would usually only take John another 15 minutes to walk to work from here but at the pace he was making it'd probably be double that time. The unique feeling of claustrophobia settle over the small man. He pushed on regardless.
"I want to apologise." The voice made him jump.
"Sherlock?" He spluttered out, shocked.
"Do you accept the apology?" He didn't look down at the doctor, rather he was peering over the heads of the business people.
"Why are you here?" He huffed out, making a tactical move and elbowing the suit to the right of him. The bodies surged forward in an impatient push from behind. John got pushed into the woman in front of him. He hadn't been this close to a lady in years by choice.
The tall detective, seemingly strolling along unaffected by the mania around him, sighed and finally peered down at the medical professional," That's what people do to advance a friendship."
He stumbled forward, "A friendship?"
"Yes, so do you accept?"
Unable to find the peace of mind to have a conversation, John merely nodded swiftly and grumbled, "Yeah, yeah, whatever."
It was only a few seconds later that John spoke to the man again, "You really are bizarre, you realise that?" He looked up, the detective was gone. Apparently disappearing off the face of the earth. He shrugged and continued pushing forward, "Suit yourself."
Immediately afterward, John got elbowed in the face.
It was two days later that John next heard from the bizarre acquaintance, it happened when his doorbell rang out unexpectedly.
Hamish peered up from where he was colouring at the squished table but quickly dismissed it and continued. John got up slowly, his leg throbbing with each tiny movement, and hobbled across to the door.
For some reason, he wasn't particularly surprised to see the dark haired manic in his doorway. John got the feeling that the man rarely pre-announced his arrivals.
The man's eyes were glued to the mobile in his hand. The other hand was hanging down by his side, a white carrier bag in his grip. He looked pretty immersed in whatever was going on inside the small device and John shook his head while sighing. He rested against the doorframe to relieve the weight off his leg. He waited impatiently.
He was about to protest Sherlock's silence when the man lifted the bag until is was at John's chest height. It remained there for a couple more seconds.
"I brought Chinese." Sherlock murmured to his phone, distractedly.
John could smell it, especially when it was held so close to his face, and it was making his empty stomach rumble loudly. He and Hamish hadn't yet eaten as John was indecisive about what to serve.
The doctor stepped aside and the tall man glided in, heading straight for the kitchen, as though he'd lived here his whole life. He navigated his way without tripping or walking into walls even with his head focused on the screen.
John followed him into the kitchen and Sherlock placed the bag atop the table, on the opposite side from where Hamish was colouring. The small boy peered up at the detective with a frown; he remembered the man from the night he turned up at their flat and upset both him and his papa.
It was only now that Sherlock slipped the mobile into his Belstaff pocket that he stared straight back down at the boy with curious eyes.
Despite his attention being on Hamish, the tall man spoke to John. "I brought some for..." He gestured at Hamish, "For the child." He stood awkwardly, a safe distance from the young boy.
"I is Hamish." The boy replied defiantly. His fingers gripping the moss green crayon in a vice-hold.
He raised an eyebrow at the boy, "I know you are. I am Sherlock Holmes, the only consulting detective in the world."
The boy stared at him blankly before suddenly returning to his colouring, ignoring Sherlock's self given status.
Ego bruised, Sherlock turned back towards the doctor in a kind of search of reassurance. His eyes searched the man's face.
John couldn't help but chuckle, it was more than clear that Sherlock really hadn't spent all that much time around children. His awkwardness severely increased around the little humans and John though it was adorable.
"Sorry, Sherlock. You've got to learn that kids really don't recognise status. The bloody queen could be sat there and he'd just offer her a crayon so don't take it personally." The doctor chuckled, dipping the volume of his voice on the swear word since little ears were present, before grabbing the take away food and bringing out plates.
Despite John's reassurance, Sherlock couldn't help but feel as though he needed to impress the child and get Hamish to actually like him; it seemed like an impossible task since the detective couldn't even manage that with most adults. He peered down at the mysterious creature and frowned. He certainly hoped he didn't require Hamish's approval to spend more time with the doctor.