A/N
If you ship Phan, please read my authors note at the end. THANK YOU.
John
Thursday
Time seemed to rush by when I was with Sherlock. The days and activities seemed to merge themselves together until soon I couldn't remember if they had even happened. Before I knew it, it was Thursday. That meant I only had a few days left with Sherlock before we had to leave and go back to reality.
It rained (again) so Sherlock and I decided to go to a seaside café we saw on our walk a few days ago. When we arrived, I opened the door, the chime of the bell indicating our arrival. Not that the owner would have been expecting us, of course. As far as we were aware, they didn't even know we existed. We were just known to them as customers. I preferred it that way. They didn't need to know who we were. It made us more mysterious. My mind started to wander and I wondered whether the owner knew all the other people in the café. Perhaps they were the locals. Perhaps they all knew each other. From what we'd seen, the village wasn't that big so the probability of friendship was likely.
I slid into the booth by the window overlooking the sea and Sherlock promptly followed, sitting on the opposite side. A young looking waitress walked over to us and we both ordered a drink. I made an effort to flash her a charming smile, making her blush. In the corner on my eye, I could see Sherlock clench his fist.
Once she'd left, I looked over at Sherlock, "Jealous?"
"No." Blatant lie.
I chuckled to myself as the girl brought over our drinks. She smiled at me nervously before scurrying off. I almost felt bad for flirting with her with no intent of actually dating her...
"So," I asked finally, "what was this trip actually for?"
Sherlock turned his head towards the window, avoiding eye contact.
"It was a thank you."
"For what?"
I watched as his gaze fell to his hands. My eyes followed. His hands were bigger and a lot smoother than mine. I couldn't help but remember what it felt like to hold them.
"You know, this isn't a text. You can't just not reply." I pointed out, still staring at his hands.
"Sorry," he held them up in defeat, "It was just a thank you."
"But what have I done to deserve a thank you?" I asked, possibly sounding more fed up than intended.
"A lot."
I smiled at that and took a sip of my drink in an effort to disguise it. I could hear the raindrops splattering on the window. It reminded me of my heart beat. Whenever I was around Sherlock, it seemed to speed up slightly. Might just be my imagination.
The day past quicker than I'd hoped. Sherlock and I spent hours talking until the sun began to set. Time flew by and I hated it. I wanted to feel like I'd spent hours with Sherlock only to find out it had only been a few minutes. I wanted to find out that we had more time like when you wake up from sleeping and realise you still have ages until you have to officially get up. I wanted more time with Sherlock.
We left the café after giving a generous tip - I felt it was the least I could do to apologise for the flirting. We started the trek back to our hotel. It was still raining heavily and the sky was as grey as dust. Maybe that's what the sky was. Dust. Tiny dust particles filling the air whenever it rains, making it darker. Not a very happy way of looking at it.
