Espresso

Chapter One

"This is a bad idea."

"Is it?"

"Yes."

"It's not."

"They'll spot us."

"Sherlock," John sighed, slightly disheartened by his partner's lack of faith. "They won't. I've hidden behind this sofa plenty of times. We're practically invisible."

"How on Earth would you know that this is a good hiding place? You work here. You shouldn't be playing hide-and-seek." Sherlock replied, a smirk playing across his lips as John elbowed him playfully in the ribs.

Currently, the pair of them were kneeling down behind an orange two seater sofa, legs aching as they balanced on their tiptoes, and trying desperately hard not to fall over without much succession.

"Who goes into work on their day off though, really?" Sherlock taunted, still rubbing his ribcage tenderly. John nudged him again while he peered over the edge, trying very hard not to succumb to another one of his giggling fits which he usually suffered whenever he and Sherlock were on a 'case'.

"And who goes on a date to their workplace anyway? Is that normal? Do you think they'd let us start snog in my work?" Sherlock continued thoughtfully, joining John in his staring.

"You work in a pickled onion factory." John pointed out as he readjusted his footing and hold on the chair. Next to him, Sherlock frowned.

"That's only because my uncle managed to get me a job there, and anyway," he strained his so that he could see better. "I'm sure they wouldn't mind if we helped ourselves to the broom cupboard go an hour or so."

"An hour?" John repeated, raising an eyebrow.

Sherlock shrugged. "Depends on how tired you are from the night before, you know you're always a slow-"

It was then that Sherlock almost gave their hiding place away, snorting in a laugh as John pushed him over.

"John!" He yelped, trying to regain his balance as John pulled him back into their cosy hiding place.

"Be quiet!" John whispered urgently, although not particularly silently.

There were only so many hiding places in Coffee Co., and behind the sofa was one of them. John had happened across this small discovery once when trying to eavesdrop on a couple's break-up. Something that since Sherlock, he'd stopped doing. Nevertheless, the hiding spot was still useful, and just because it was good for watching relationships end, who said it wasn't good for watching them come together?

Indeed, a mere fifteen feet in front of them sat the newly formed couple, coffee swarming around them in great clouds as they spoke quietly; flashing each other small smiles and laughing at one another's jokes and comments.

"They're good together, don't you think?" John asked, turning to face Sherlock, who was frowning over the side of the sofa, cheeks pressed against his knuckles as he leaned on them. "What?"

Sherlock pulled away from the back of the upholstery and fell onto his bum, thinking heavily as his eyebrows knitted together.

If there was one thing John loved, it was Sherlock's 'thinking face', as he described it. Sherlock had explained the whole mind palace memory technique, and although John initially had a hard time understanding it, he eventually came round to see that the unusual method of remembering things was as much a part of Sherlock as his hair.

With this in mind, he always took great pleasure in watching Sherlock think. Occasionally he'd grow bored and draw a moustache on his upper lip, but other than that he could sit there for hours, just staring at the still face as the cogs whirred inside. Trying to work out what was going on in there.

This however, was not one of those tranquil occasions, as Sherlock was out of his trance in almost an instant, and was clambering back to his position behind the chair, perched on his knees and peering over the backrest as he clung onto it.

"They're not going to get anywhere." He said, narrowing his eyes as he watched them. John meanwhile was too busy waiting to hear Sherlock's proposal than to watch the two lovebirds. "Look at them," he continued, and John quickly glanced in their direction. "There's no actual humour there. No inside jokes, nothing that will tie them to this situation when they look back on it."

John laughed. "What do you know about romance?" He chortled, watching as Sherlock's eyebrows slipped down and the frown that John had come to love through his tormenting stuck out like a beautifully crafted mishap.

"I know about romance." Sherlock chastised, narrowing his eyes. "It's other people that don't. Shove a red rose under their nose and they'll swoon. That's not being romantic. That's just killing a flower."

At that, John sighed. Leaning back so that he was resting on the palms of his hands, unable to see the couple and instead watching the back of Sherlock's head, he suddenly had the idea of creating a challenge.

"Go on then," he said, kicking the back Sherlock's thigh lightly. "Prove it."

"Prove it?" Sherlock repeated, turning his head to the side and looking confused. "I don't think this is the right place, John." He pointed out, although John met his smirk with a grin. As if too nudge him into doing it, John nudged Sherlock's leg with his foot once more.

It didn't take long before Sherlock agreed.

"Fine. But I'm not doing this so that you get what you want." He told John firmly, rising from his position on the cold hard floor and standing upright. John watched him stand, grinning the whole time. He thought his mouth might split at the corners if he didn't stop soon.

He kept an eye on Sherlock as the unpredictable teenager guided his way from behind the sofa, and John hastily scrambled into his feet too, eager to see what he was going to do.

Because it was true. Sherlock was the least romantic person John had ever had the good fortune of knowing. Not that it mattered. Their idea of a good time wasn't to shower the other in gifts as was many others relationships. No, their relationship was built solely on a shared love of pissing the other off, late night walks around London and running mayhem in doing so. Romance didn't come into it.

The thing was though, now that John considered it, there was in fact a great deal of slightly displaced romance between the pair of them. Although Sherlock had hitherto shown no desire to be romantic towards John, the bloke was in fact a complete romantic - he was just to awkward about showing it. Certainly, all John had to do was offer one sweet gesture and Sherlock would be crimson.

"John!" Sherlock hissed, bringing John back his senses. Quickly, John joined Sherlock's side and slipped his hands into Sherlock's. He looked down skeptically at it, frowning at the way John was swinging his arm.

"What're you doing?" He interrogated, looking from the hands to John, and then back to the hands.

John offered him a sly smile as a response, clasping Sherlock's hand tighter. The tips of his fingers were cold, and John quickly came to the conclusion that Sherlock was quickly developing a cold. Indeed, now John looked closely, the end of Sherlock's nose was growing slightly pink too.

Cogs began whirring as plans upon plans hatched in John's mind. But first, they had Greg and Molly's disastrous date to deal with.

So... Yeah. Thoughts? - Natalie