Coffee

Chapter 3

The weekend passed by slowly. Saturday and Sunday merged into one, and John worked relentlessly hard on perfecting that damn drink of Sherlock's. As his timings improved, so did the weather. Instead of the wet, sloppy mud created by the rain, the earth hardened as frost settled. It was still bitterly cold, but the sun still sliced through and managed to make everything bright. Therefore, as John hung up his coat and set to work on the first customers of the day, he felt as though nothing could dampen his spirits.

"John!"

John looked up as he heard his name being shouted across the café, and a grin settled across his face as he spotted Greg standing in the doorway.

He was average height, taller than John (although as Harry often pointed out: who wasn't?), with a big smile and an even bigger heart. John had often considered trying to hook him and Molly up, but had never gotten round to it.

Their friendship was a strange one. Greg and he went to different colleges, and hadn't even attended the same high school or primary. They'd met a few years before at an Under-14s football club during the summer holidays. Since leaving that, John had taken up rugby, while Greg continued with football.

It was a rare occasion that they got to see each other, but somehow they always managed it. Mainly at parties, Greg and John's main way of meeting up was through mutual friends. This therefore meant that between them, they knew roughly all the students in the other's college.

To John's memory, Greg had never been in Coffee Co., favouring instead the cheap coffee machine at his college. Slowly, Greg's position in the queue decreased until he was at the counter where John was serving.

"You alright?" John asked, rubbing his hands on a tea towel and throwing it over his shoulder. "What brings you to this fine establishment?"

"The coffee." Greg replied with a shrug.

"I thought you said that you would -" he brought his arms to make air quotations. "'Never buy from those rip-off cafés because they're too expensive and coffee is coffee no matter where you get it from?'" He finished, to find that Greg was smiling through a frown.

"Yeah, well, this place comes recommended." He shrugged, peering at the menu on the wall.

"Oh? Who by?"

"Well..." Greg faltered, spotting a particularly expensive drink and frowning at the cost. "Not so much the place comes recommended as a person who works here. Do you know who Molly Hooper is?"

John frowned. Molly sometimes worked the same shifts as him, although more often than not she'd work in the evening instead.

"Yeah. I do. Why?" He asked, suddenly intrigued as to how Greg knew her.

"It's kinda a long story..." Greg replied, leaning back and stretching slightly. He still seemed half asleep. John watched him with interest. Seeing that his barista was now deeply interested in what he had to say, Greg began to explain.

"Basically, I was waiting in the library before class; just me and couple of others from the team. Anyway, while I was in there this guy came in. He's never been one for talking, and he's managed to piss off every person going I think, but he was sitting there and grinning like a maniac at his coffee."

John nodded hurriedly. "And?"

"And then I asked him what he was smiling about." Greg continued, shrugging. "He said it was just good coffee. Then he said that I should try it out, and try to be served by someone called Molly. Apparently, she keeps flirting with him, but he thinks we'd go together well. I dunno. Who'd have thought that Sherlock Holmes would even attempt at being a matchmaker?" He shook his head, laughing to himself. In front of him, John's eyes widened.

Throughout the few months he'd been taunting Sherlock, he'd never actually learned his surname. But then again he supposed that he'd never asked either.

"Wait, Sherlock Holmes?" He queried, trying to grab Greg's attention again. "Tall, cheekbones, always frowning?"

Greg pulled a face. "You know him?"

John nodded. "I write his name wrong on the cups to annoy him..." He thought to himself for a few moments, before Greg's laugh brought him back.

"That's you who does that?" He asked, wiping away a tear. "John, mate, you need to find another way to piss him off because he loves that."

Confused, John froze.

"What?"

"Whenever he has coffee from here, it's always the wrong name. You should see him in class. He sits there, drinking from his cup and smiling at the name whenever he sees it. It's quite funny to watch, actually. Seb decided to ask him about it, but Seb's 'asking someone about it' is often mistaken for bullying, so we didn't find out anymore about it. It happens a lot though." He smiled, finally deciding what drink he wanted, and completely oblivious as to John's reaction to the whole thing. "Can I have that £1.50 thing?"

John nodded quickly. "Yeah."

He was dumbstruck. Whenever he spelt Sherlock's name wrong, or just put an entirely different name altogether, Sherlock had always gotten very angry. So now that Greg was here and telling him that Sherlock actually found it funny? Confusion wasn't the right word.

Some time passed, and Greg had left with the cheapest coffee on the board. John was still in a state of bewilderment as Sally approached him towards the end of his shift. He hadn't seen Sherlock once today.

"There's a break-up going on upstairs," she told him, slipping past as he set the blender going. "If you want to go and clear some tables up there, I won't mind."

John grinned. He loved watching break-ups. They made a nice change from the busy business people and gossiping parents. "Excellent! You sure you don't mind?"

"Go on. You've worked hard. Enjoy your break-up."

One of the perks of working at Coffee Co. was that each day was different. Much the same as a GP may witness a wide variety illnesses; John's shifts were always packed with the unexpected.

Sure, there were times when John had seriously considered accidentally putting Harry's heavy metal playlist in the radio in exchange for the quirky underground music played on the record player, or had been even more careless still and had allowed a screaming seven year old more caffeine than he ought to have in a week. But those were the boring occasions that came with every job, so John let them slide.

Break-ups were a regular occurrence. Sally always complained about them, because: "... They always use up half the napkins in the dispenser. Half! Do they need that many tissues? Seriously, I'm going to put a sign on the door saying 'If you're going to break up with your partner, bring your own tissues, or I'll personally sabotage all of your future relationships.' Honestly! It's like they don't understand that they're meant for coffee spillages..."

He would feel bad about enjoying watching them, and he always felt sorry for the people involved, but he had always been nosey, and he people's crying faces sent him into hysterics.

Arms laden with bowl, spray and a cloth, he carefully trod his way upstairs.

It didn't take him long to spot the soon-to-be-ended couple, with one of them being a bloke who'd John just served.

"Look... It's not-"

"You're breaking up with me."

Although the second bloke in the party was facing the opposite way to John, he could easily work out who it was. He gaped as he watch the head lower to rest on the owner's hands. He could recognise those curls anywhere.

Hi. What do you think? If you have any criticism (preferably constructive), that'd be amazing. So... Yeah. Thanks for reading :)