Paper Heart
by helloliriels
"Are you trying to peg me as a 'Bad Boy', John? Please," Sherlock interrupted, catching John's eyes and raising his own brows in question, before indicating his posh attire and the salted caramel latte with extra caramel he held in his hand.
John had been leaning across the table at the little coffee shop, describing Sherlock and his traits to Harry. He stopped momentarily to cock his head at Sherlock, "Not trying, Sherlock. I mean, it is what it is." Not deterred in any way, he continued to describe Sherlock's exploits and 'bad' behavior in what he knew Sherlock would call - a rather exaggerated and elaborate fashion.
Harry was eating it up. John sat back, ending with, "and now you get to meet him in person. You agree right?"
"You shouldn't give Harry the wrong impression John."
"Have I?" he asked Harry, conspiratorially.
Harry shook her head, "definitely not! He is all that and more..." she added winking at John. "I totally get it now, you always did have a thing for bad boys in school."
Now it was Watson's turn to jump in, "No, no. Not like that." He sputtered and grabbed for a napkin, "Harry. A word. Please?" And pulling Harry along âtil they were in the hall near the kitchen and doors to the loos, he started in quietly. "What are you trying to do?" He hissed out. Harry took it all super-conspiratorially, "John." She looked him straight up and down, "seriously, look - John. You aren't fooling anyone. You just spent 10 minutes romanticizing your flatmate in front of him without even blushing. I don't know how. I mean. He knows, right?"
"God, no," Watson placed his hands over her mouth, as if the walls could hear and go back to tell Sherlock, "He doesn't. He can't. I mean, he doesn't go in for that sort of thing."
"You mean he isn't gay? Or he doesn't do boyfriends?" She looked over Watson's shoulder at the man at the booth, and then back at John with confusion and then dropped her eyelids, staring at John, deadpan... "you are kidding right?"
She paused.
"Tell me, you're kidding John."
When John didnât reply, she shook her head.
"THAT man. OUT THERE. Is NOT gay? Pfft," she started laughing. "Forrest for the trees, I guess bro. Whatever... secret's safe with me. But heck, if I were you. I'd ask him who his boyfriend is then. He looks like a man in a steady relationship. If it ain't you, it's someone." She looked back over at Sherlock sitting content and quiet, "that man is secure. He ain't browsing." And she turned to go into the loos herself, to give John time to make up own mind how to save face in returning. "But word of advice," she threw out, around the door, "don't take too long. He might just marry whomever it is before you've told him how you really feel."
John was left in turmoil. Not even thinking about how he should go back to explain his little "talk" with Harry.
He can't just...No.
But, Sherlock is?
Who?
When?!
Where?
He spent every waking moment (that John knew of, besides a few errands now and then) in John's own company. This was going to kill him. NOT knowing...
He trudged back over to Sherlock. Who perked up immediately to John's shift in attitude.
"Everything O.K.?" he asked John, a touch of concern in his voice. It made John smile a little. And his heart hurt. He looked over the gorgeous man in front of him. All dark curls, and brilliant blue eyes. A man whose depth of character he knew inside and out. Who shined like a prism, reflecting color and changing everything in John's life with his very presence. And John didn't really know him.... did he?
He could go on for hours about the genius and complexity of the man. And still. Not know him. Not on that level. It made him sadder than - he realized - he had any right. To be.
"Are you alright? John?" Sherlock was shifting out of his seat now and standing up. "Is Harry alright?" Sherlock was on high alert, holding onto Watson's shoulders and craning his neck to see past him, in case Harry had was in need of emergency service. Or in trouble. Or anything.
Watson loved how ready the man always was, to dive right into danger. Bad boy. Hmmff. He chuckled to himself a bit. A bad boy with a paper heart.
"S'all right Sherlock, was nothing. Just remembered something personal I needed to discuss with her. It was kind of urgent. She's fine. I'm fine. It's just..." Sherlock grabbed John's coffee and handed it to him.
"Did you want to leave?" He was fussing. John could tell. Trying to read the room, and failing. Watson loved him more for it. How could he get them back to the moment they were having before he?
Harry came bouncing back out. Hands on her hips. "Well, you boys should really invite me out more. Next time, Sherlock - you must promise to tell me EVERYTHING about my brother. Since I haven't SEEN HIM -" She eyed Watson liked a criminal -" in AGES. And he never tells me anything." She looked over at Sherlock who was smiling in reply,Â
"Deal??" She asked.Â
To which he replied, heartily, "Deal."
"I'm out, you two!" She whistled as she trotted off grabbing her jacket, and punching the door open. "I'm sure you have dinner plans anyways," she called on her way out, "Happy Valentine's!"
John was dumbfounded. And turning bright red.
He felt like the entire coffee shop was looking at them. He counted to ten, before turning to look at Sherlock for his reaction (dreading it).
But Sherlock was kicked back again, enjoying his latte. Seemingly, oblivious. Huh.
John shook it off and sat back down. Clearly what they were STILL ... doing?
Sherlock was not the type to sit still for long. And as far as John knew (he winced, internally) he did not frequent coffee shops much. Maybe he did with his boyfriend?
"So," Watson huffed, trying to kick-start conversation, if only so they wouldn't sit in silence in a public coffee shop. Talking was usually not difficult for them. They seemed to read each other naturally. But John was at a loss. Feeling. Disconnected. At the moment.
"Tonight," Sherlock said. His eyes were twinkling.
Watson shut his mouth. Swallowed.
So the parting shot HAD been heard. And registered. Bollocks.
"Tonight," he tried cheerfully, "Plans?"
"Definitely."
"Good," Watson clipped. "That's um... that's good." He paused, before it slipped out, "Who with?" He licked his lips.
Sherlock looked confused momentarily, but then seemed to parse the question. Sitting up straighter to reply. "Was thinking Angelo's?"
"No, I meant." John tried again, "you know what, nevermind." He went to get up.
"What? Is Angelo's not a good choice?" Sherlock also stood. Grabbing his coat and stretching his long, elegant arms to put it back on. John was watching him, like a man parched, and thirsty for water.
Sherlock grinned. "Place where we first met."
"Oh," John's face dropped, again. So he hadn't been the first (or apparently), the last, whom Sherlock had taken there. With the exception, that this one had actually BEEN a date or, worse yet... TURNED INTO a date.
He huffed. Sucks to be you, Watson! He thought to himself. Hearing Harry's voice in his head.
"Why don't we go, John?" Sherlock was being gentle, and it crushed him further. "You must have a headache. Funny. Caffeine usually helps with those..."
John followed him as he marched out the door. All long strides. Clipped to allow John to keep pace with him.
(continue reading)
