The One Next Door

Could This be Lo...Loathing Hate!

A/N: Thanks to one of my readers who unknowingly inspired the title on a comment :) 

"Dishes then." Molly decided, getting to her feet and picking up the scattered dishes around. Sherlock sighed, carrying over a couple of bowls and picking out some onions from the lettuce. There was some awkward silence, obviously they both had things to say, but neither wanted to say the first word.

"So, why'd you say that?" Molly asked as she pulled the sauce pan under the soapy water.
"I said a lot of things; you'll have to be more specific." Sherlock insisted.
"Why'd you say that you preferred blonde women?" she asked. Sherlock sighed, grabbing a towel and drying off a plate, formulating his answer before he opened his mouth.
"I don't know, honestly. Maybe I'm just not ready for him to know the truth yet." Sherlock admitted.
"I thought you didn't care if people knew, you're not exactly hiding who you are." Molly pointed out.
"This feels like an interrogation." Sherlock decided.
"I'm just asking. I thought it was a little bit, off character." Molly admitted.
"I don't want him to think I'm any more abnormal than he already does, I guess. If he knows that I'm gay then maybe he'll use that to his advantage, who knows?" Sherlock admitted.
"He won't bully you if that's what you're suggesting. He's a good person, I think, and he'll accept you just as I have. Besides, being gay isn't abnormal, it's perfectly fine, and if you let someone else's opinion make you think otherwise, then obviously you're hanging around the wrong sort of people." Molly decided.
"You're the one making me hang out with him." Sherlock insisted.
"I don't see why you hate him so much, I honestly don't. I think you're too stubborn to admit that you like him, and you're using your fist meeting as an excuse to deny it." Molly guessed.
"I don't like him Molly, if I hear one more person ask me if I like him I going to scream!" Sherlock insisted.
"I didn't mean like that, I meant as a person, platonically. You think he's a good person, and you won't admit it." Molly guessed.
"Can't I just dislike someone in peace?" Sherlock asked.
"Well, no. You were embarrassing me tonight, I wanted to have the two of you over for a neighborly bonding night, and you keep throwing around insults and making sure no one actually bonded." Molly insisted.
"Why are you so keen on bonding with him?" Sherlock asked.
"Because I'm being neighborly! Not just that, he's a coffee shop regular, and if he develops a grudge against either of us, life will get a bit more complicated. I don't want to have to adjust my schedule just to avoid him." Molly insisted.
"I'd say that you like him." Sherlock guessed.
"I don't like him." Molly assured.
"I know." Sherlock decided. "If you liked him, you would've made desert." And with that, he dropped his towel; put the last dish away, and left the flat.
"Thanks for dinner." He decided, closing the door behind him and walking off to his apartment. Sherlock sighed, unlocking his door and walking into his own apartment, turning on the lights and closing the door. He could hear footsteps in the hallway, undoubtedly John, so he turned around and peeped through the peephole. Indeed it was John, dragging the fat bulldog on a leash and trying to find his key at the same time. Sherlock couldn't help but smile as the leash slipped from his hand, leaving the man to dive after his dog and pick him up, finally digging out his key and unlocking the door, disappearing from Sherlock's view. So he walked back into his apartment, telling himself repeatedly that he hated John, that he was a little jerk that was mean to employees and overall a miserable person. But, there was always that little voice in the back of his head that told him, maybe John wasn't a miserable person. Maybe Molly was right, maybe Sherlock was just being stubborn.                

               When Sherlock got up the next morning he trusted that even though John would be there, he might be kind enough not to annoy the heck out of everyone. Or maybe yesterday's silence had just been payback for how much talking he was going to do over dinner. Nevertheless, Sherlock didn't feel like moving very much, and had no interest in trying to beat John and Molly to the door in five minutes. So he sluggishly pulled on his clothes, brushed his hair and teeth, washed his face, all of those mandatory little things that he had to do before walking in public. When he knocked on Molly's door he was a little bit late, and she was already done with her breakfast and had to abandon the curling iron to come let him in.
"What's with you and curling your hair?" Sherlock asked.
"I thought it looked nice last night; I thought I might as well do it today as well." Molly guessed.
"I read that curling irons and flat irons damage your hair." Sherlock pointed out.
"Why were you reading about that?" Molly asked.
"Because I wanted to straighten my hair. I just happen to come across it, don't interrogate me." Sherlock muttered, sitting on her kitchen counter and hissing back at Hell Spawn, who was prowling around near the sink.
"So, I'm almost ready, give me a moment." Molly insisted.
"Take your time. I'm not going anywhere." Sherlock shrugged.
"So we're not throwing a hissy fit today I see? I'd expect more seclusion, silence, maybe some eggs thrown." Molly decided as she curled her hair in the bathroom.
"That's not going to happen." Sherlock assured.
"Have you finally come to accept how dumb you were acting?" Molly asked.
"If by that you mean talk to him, then no." Sherlock decided.
"I don't see why you don't want to talk to him, he's very nice." Molly insisted.
"But he's annoying; he's trying to get me mad." Sherlock defended.
"And you've been doing what exactly?" Molly asked.
"Fighting back, it's a revolution." Sherlock decided.
"He's not doing anything wrong, you, on the other hand, are acting like a first grader." She decided.
"There's nothing wrong with that. First grade was great, everyone was friends because we weren't old enough to prejudice." Sherlock insisted.
"Then maybe you should be a little bit more like a first grader, and less like a sixth grader." Molly guessed.
"Oh, that's pushing the line." Sherlock decided.
"What, middle school?" she asked.
"That was Hell." Sherlock insisted.
"I thought middle school was alright." Molly admitted.
"All of those people, everyone maturing and just starting to realize their full potential of bullying, and everyone getting attractive and becoming jerks as well. My only almost friend got all attractive, got a girlfriend, started to hang out with the popular kids, and the next day slammed me into a locker." Sherlock pointed out.
"No one actually shoved people in lockers, we won't fit." Molly insisted.
"Tell that to my poor locker in seventh grade." Sherlock shuddered.
"Is that why you won't talk to him then, because you're afraid he's going to make fun of you? Is that why you said you prefer blonde women?" Molly asked.
"No, of course not, I just, don't want him to know." Sherlock admitted.
"It makes me laugh, imagining you with a blonde women, she's either really smart, or really, really stupid." Molly guessed.
"What, just because she's blonde? Way to stereotype Molly." Sherlock decided.
"I'm not stereotyping the girl; I'm stereotyping you, a gay man." Molly defended.
"Fair enough." Sherlock decided. Molly came out, her hair in bouncy curls, grabbing her coat. As soon as they walked out, John's door opened and he started off down the hallway.
"Do you have a security camera too?" Sherlock asked.
"No, I thought I was running a little bit late." John defended.
"Well, you're exactly on time. It's creepy." Sherlock decided.
"Good morning John." Molly sighed. She was glaring at Sherlock, but honestly he didn't see what he had done wrong, he could've said some stuff a lot worse. The three of them walked down together, Molly walking between John and Sherlock just to ease some of the tension.
"So, maybe you can try to work behind the counter, making drinks and stuff." Molly suggested.
"I'm not good at that yet, I only know how to make the coffee and pour it, I don't even know what a cappuccino is." Sherlock defended.
"You work at a coffee shop and you don't know what a cappuccino is?" John asked.
"You work at a hardware store but do you know every type of nail on the earth?"Sherlock snapped.
"Pretty much." John insisted.
"That's because you do inventory, it's not the same thing." Sherlock defended, and John just laughed, obviously thinking he had won this argument. They walked into the shop, hung up their coats, and went their separate ways. Molly and Sherlock behind the counter, pulling on aprons and John to a booth, setting up his laptop for important hardware store duties. Sherlock couldn't imagine he got that much money by scrolling through pictures and numbers, but John seemed satisfied. As usual, the coffees came and went, but this time Molly helped him behind the counter, and in addition to handing them out and calling names, Sherlock made some of the simpler drinks. Some people looked a little bit apprehensive when they saw the new guy brewing their coffee, but Sherlock could only assume they were satisfied when they didn't demand a refund or start a riot.
"You're getting the hang of this I see." Molly decided with a smile. Sherlock fixed the cap onto a medium black coffee and called out for some lady named Rachel.
"It's not as difficult as it looks I suppose." Sherlock shrugged.
"Stop being modest, you're doing awesome." Molly insisted.
"Medium roast, large." Carl muttered.
"Oh, I wonder who's that is?" Sherlock sighed, looking over the cash register to see John give him a wide smile.
"Don't spit in it." Molly insisted as Sherlock grabbed the cup from Carl, maybe a bit too aggressively.
"Just a little bit?" Sherlock pleaded.
"No, come on, be mature." Molly insisted, and Sherlock just groaned, starting the coffee in the pot and waiting for it impatiently. So, being the mature adult he was, he took a stray marker from the counter and crossed out John's name, writing in scrawled letters Joan, just to annoy him. So, when finally the coffee pot dinged, Sherlock poured it in the cup, fixed a lid on, and walked over to the counter.
"Joan?" he called out, giving John a mischievous smile.
"Ya ya, very funny." John snapped. "I hope you didn't spit in it."
"Molly told me very specifically not to." Sherlock admitted.
"Good, she's got you straightened out then." John decided. Ha, if only Sherlock were straight...
"Go away John, we've got other costumers." Sherlock insisted.
"You're standing there, I'm just engaging in polite conversation." John defended. So, Sherlock turned away, hoping John did the same, and went over to fill some more orders. When their shift was finally over, Sherlock and Molly were just putting their aprons away when Jeanette walked hurriedly up.
"Molly, I hate to have to ask this, but one of my night workers just called in sick, some sort of nasty flu, and they can't work their shift. And usually that would be alright, because not many people get coffee at night, but there's a business meeting in the building opposite, and when they have meetings they all need to get coffee because they need to look alert." Jeanette insisted, all in one breath.
"You want me to take over?" Molly asked.
"I'll pay you overtime." Jeanette decided.
"Alright then, I haven't got any other plans." Molly shrugged. Sherlock groaned, that meant he'd be left in his apartment. Hopefully John would keep his distance.
"Awesome, thank you so much, I'm freaking out here." Jeanette breathed.
"It's not a problem." Molly assured.
"Alright, I'll see you at six." Jeanette decided.
"See you then." Molly agreed, and with that the boss shuffled back into her office, as if there were very important matters to be had behind a desk.
"Well, that's brilliant." Molly grumbled, throwing her apron messily on top of the pile and going over to get her coat.
"What's wrong, I thought you liked it here?" Sherlock asked.
"Well, I do, but I don't know any of the night shift people, and I'll be there until nine." Molly groaned.
"You'll be fine; you're good in social environments." Sherlock assured.
"I'm tiny and awkward, and I don't really like new people." Molly defended.
"What were you saying about new people? Because I can take a hint." John piped in, standing with his coat on near the door.
"Oh, nothing, I have to work the night shift." Molly groaned.
"You'll be fine." John assured.
"I need my beauty sleep." Molly insisted.
"Obviously you need more of it." Sherlock muttered, and John dared a smile. Molly just slapped him with her polka dot coat and walked moodily out the door.
"Well, I love to say this, but I'm going grocery shopping." Sherlock decided.
"Don't you usually go grocery shopping?" John asked.
"If I have money, maybe." Sherlock shrugged.
"That's...nice." John muttered.
"No, it sucks, that's why I keep Molly around." Sherlock pointed out, pulling Molly into a one arm hug. She was still all grumpy, so she pushed him away, and Sherlock just laughed.
"You're in a good mood." Molly decided.
"I am, it's a good day." Sherlock agreed.
"How come?" John asked.
"Because I spit in your coffee." He shrugged.
"You did?!" John shrieked, looking fully ready to throw up the contents of his stomach.
"Of course I didn't, I don't want to get fired. But I'm going shopping, I have money, I did laundry yesterday so I'm wearing my favorite shirt, maybe I'll even do some sculpting." Sherlock shrugged.
"Well, I'm happy you're having a good day." Molly muttered.
"You'll be fine Molly, honestly, you're the best person I know, you make friends too easily." Sherlock assured.
"Ya, you made friends with me immediately, just be yourself, smile, you don't even have to talk to them." John insisted.
"Ya, alright." Molly muttered. Her mood kind of improved from all that praise.