The One Next Door

Working Member of Society

It was around five o'clock when Molly came over; Sherlock was just starting to dig through his fridge again, contemplating if he would die if he ate cat food, when there was a knock on the door. Sherlock went over to open it, and, to his absolute delight, it was pizza. Well, it was Molly, but she was carrying pizza. 

"Yay!" Sherlock exclaimed, grabbing the box from her arms and rushing to the counter.
"You seem happy to see me." Molly guessed.
"Not you, food." Sherlock insisted.
"Hungry, are we?" she asked.
"Well, yes." Sherlock admitted.
"Get that clay off of your fingers, I don't want to digest modern art." Molly insisted, casting a dismal look to the lump of clay in the middle of the room.
"It's not modern art yet." Sherlock decided, but nevertheless he scrubbed his hands underneath the sink, washing off the excess clay from under his fingernails.
"Why is it so cold in here?" Molly asked.
"I turned off the heat." Sherlock shrugged.
"But it's October!" Molly exclaimed.
"Almost the end of October, and that means..." Sherlock left his sentence hanging, for Molly to answer herself.
"Time to pay the rent." She agreed.
"So that means I can't waste money anywhere!" Sherlock agreed.
"Tell that to your art project." Molly muttered.
"Maybe he'll take it as rent." Sherlock suggested. Their land lord was named Moran, they didn't know his first name and they didn't want to. His was a grimy man with a cigar and a scowl, and was about a head taller than Sherlock and twice as wide with muscles. He was one of the only men Sherlock hadn't flirted with in the building.
"He did that one time, right?" Molly asked with a laugh.
"Ya, he took that bird sculpture. Good thing too, because that was like my third month late, I was sure he was going to throw me out." Sherlock agreed. Molly got two plates out of the cabinet and handed one to Sherlock, who took a piece of pizza and ate it ravenously, forgetting about the plate on the counter.
"What are you going to do if he does kick you out?" Molly asked.
"Oh, I don't know, maybe I'll sleep on your couch." Sherlock shrugged.
"I'm serious." Molly insisted.
"So am I." Sherlock agreed. Molly just sighed, but Sherlock was sure he saw a smile on her face.
"Oh well, I guess you got the job just in time." she decided.
"I guess I did." Sherlock agreed, finishing off the crust and moving onto another piece of pizza.
"So, it asked with the manager, she says that we are looking for another position behind the counter, and that you'll have to wear an apron, you'll have to take orders, make coffee, and be good with people." Molly sighed.
"I'm not so sure about that last one." Sherlock decided.
"Just no flirting, this isn't a meet and greet, it's work." Molly insisted.
"Well, we went to that one coffee shop together, remember? And that guy threw his coffee on me?" Sherlock pointed out.
"Please, don't remind me. The number of times I've seen you get rejected, it's hard to keep track." Molly sighed.
"I'm not going to point out the number of times you've been rejected." Sherlock pointed out.
"Name one." Molly insisted.
"Well, it's...um, the, that one waiter at Ruby Tuesdays!" Sherlock exclaimed.
"I didn't ask him out, he asked me out, and I said no." Molly insisted.
"That's not how I remember it." Sherlock defended.
"Besides, people aren't as appalled if a woman flirts with them, but take an aggressively straight man and have you go up and ask if they come here often, that usually gets violent." Molly pointed out.
"I never ask if they come here often, that's the cheesiest thing you could ever say!" Sherlock defended.
"Anyway, back to the job! You have to wear your nicest clothes, no paint anywhere, please, or clay, and look nice and happy, alright?" she insisted.
"I'm always happy." Sherlock defended.
"Yes well, be a happier kind of happy, not a...you kind of happy." Molly decided.
"What does that even mean?" Sherlock asked.
"I don't know, bear with me." Molly groaned. Sherlock just took another piece of pizza in response, the first proper meal he's had since two nights ago, when he made himself some pasta.
"Should I help you pick out an outfit?" Molly asked.
"If you want to." Sherlock groaned.
"Well, I already have one in mind, your black slacks..."
"Ugh..." Sherlock groaned.
"Purple shirt...."
"No!" Sherlock defended.
"And the black jacket." She decided.
"I'll look like I'm going to a funeral!" Sherlock whined.
"You'll look nice, and in case you didn't know, but paint stained jeans and tee shirts aren't proper work attire." Molly insisted.
"For me they are." Sherlock pointed out.
"That's not a real job!" Molly defended, and Sherlock just groaned again.
"It's always a mistake letting you in here." He decided.
"I bring you pizza." She pointed out.
"I didn't say it's a mistake to let the pizza in here, the pizza doesn't judge my life choices." Sherlock defended. Molly only laughed, walking over to the clay in the middle of the floor and looking it over.
"What's this supposed to be then?" she asked.
"You tell me." Sherlock insisted.
"I don't know." She decided.
"Ya, me neither." Sherlock agreed.
"You spent most of your money to make something you don't even know?" Molly asked in exasperation.
"Yes." Sherlock shrugged.
"Honestly Sherlock, sometimes I worry about you." Molly decided. Sherlock just smiled innocently, finishing off the last of the pizza and going over to sit on the couch, clearing away paint brushes to let Molly sit as well.
"So who else works at this coffee shop?" he asked.
"You already asked me, no cute guys." Molly insisted.
"I'm not asking about the guys, is there anyone I should watch out for, is there anyone that cries easily? These are things I need to know." Sherlock asked.
"Well, there's Sarah, she's a bit aggressive, she's not mean or anything, but she'll push you out of the way to get whipped cream." Molly decided, looking thoughtful. "There's a costumer, forget his name, but he's got a shaved head or something, and he's a terrible tipper, and always complains about the food."
"Well I'll teach him a good lesson about..." Sherlock started.
"No you most certainly will not! You can't be rude to anyone there, have you ever even had a job?" Molly asked.
"I do have a job!" Sherlock whined.
"Sometimes I just want to smack you across you stupid pretty face." Molly groaned.
"Aw, you think I'm pretty?" Sherlock asked, pretending to be flattered.
"You're beautiful." Molly said without emotion, and Sherlock's smile faded.
"Well, if you say it like that..." he sighed.
"You'll be fine tomorrow, just be nice, be calm, and for at least the first week, try to act a little straight." Molly decided.
"Oh, come on!" Sherlock groaned.
"Pleaaase? For me?" Molly pleaded.
"Why should I act straight, are they all going to kick me out? I'm pretty sure it's illegal these days to discriminate." Sherlock guessed.
"I know, I know, but I don't want them to treat you any differently." Molly insisted.
"If they will I'm not going to get interviewed." Sherlock decided.
"I don't know, I don't know what they'll do, just, don't be terribly obvious." Molly insisted.
"What is me being obvious?" Sherlock asked.
"Well, usually checking your hair on every reflection..."
"What? That's natural hygiene; I've got to look good." Sherlock debated.
"And complementing women on their outfit choices, and how their necklace color really complements their eyes." Molly decided.
"Remember that one lady at the mall, she thought I was hitting on her, and she gave me her number and I laughed out loud in the middle of the mall and she started to cry?" Sherlock asked.
"That was horrible, I felt so bad!" Molly debated.
"Why, you didn't do anything!" Sherlock insisted.
"Because I could imagine what that feels like." Molly pointed out.
"Because you've gotten laughed at?" Sherlock asked.
"Maybe..." Molly muttered, pulling her legs up to her chest with a defensive little frown.
"Oh, and no talking about your art." She added.
"How does that make me sound gay?" Sherlock defended.
"It doesn't, it's just annoying." Molly shrugged.
"So basically you want me to be a robot." Sherlock clarified.
"A coffee making robot, yes." She agreed.
"I hate you." Sherlock decided.
"Love you too." Molly agreed, getting to her feet and collecting the empty pizza box. "I'll come by at six thirty, please be ready by then."
"Six thirty? Are these people all vampires?" Sherlock asked in disgust.
"No, but by the time everyone's up and on their way to work, they want their coffee." Molly pointed out.
"This is going to be miserable." Sherlock decided.
"You'll do fine, I'm sure of it." Molly insisted.
"Alright, see you dark and early." Sherlock agreed.
"See you then. And please, please try to wake up on time." Molly insisted.
"I will, chill out. Goodbye Molly, it hasn't been a pleasure." Sherlock decided.
"Alright, set an alarm or something." Molly insisted.
"I'll be fine!" Sherlock debated.