The One Next Door

Well....Oops

                  

"Ah, here we are." Molly decided, coming up on a little burger stand in the middle of the park. There were little tables dotted around the stand, people waiting in lines, and discarded burger wrappers floating aimlessly around with the soft breeze. At least no one was hitting him with celery...
  "So, let's get in line, shall we?" Molly offered, leading their pack to the back of the long line.
"Who says 'shall we' anymore?" Sherlock asked.
"Shakespeare geeks." John offered.
"I'll have you know, I don't read Shakespeare." Molly defended. "It just sounds nice."
"No it doesn't, it sounds weird." Sherlock decided.
"Shush Sherlock, no one asked for your opinion." Molly insisted, and Sherlock just groaned, but didn't say anything like the obedient friend he was. They studied the menu board thoroughly, but Sherlock already had a vague idea that he was after a cheeseburger with as much bacon as they could stuff under a bun. When finally the people in front of them ordered and made way for the trio to get to the front, Molly ordered a salad (at a burger place, really), John ordered some sort of chili hot dog, and Sherlock ordered his bacon cheeseburger.
"I thought we said we'd avoid vegetarianism?" Sherlock asked.
"I didn't say that, I said we wouldn't go to the vegetarian restaurant." Molly insisted.
"I didn't know you were a vegetarian." John pointed out.
"I'm not; I just enjoy the simplicity of salads." Molly insisted, looking quite defensive. The only tables left were the awkward two seated ones that almost no one took, so Sherlock and Molly sat on the ends and John stole a chair from a family of three sitting in a four person table. It was a little bit squished, and Sherlock's leg was smashed uncomfortably close with John's, but since they had no other choice they'd just have to live with it. The sun was starting to set when the food came out, a very stressed waitress carrying their tray over and setting it on the table. They thanked her and dug in, separating the three cartons of fries, three different flavored milkshakes, and their assorted entrées throughout the bunch. Molly poured Italian dressing over her sad looking salad (because what could you expect?), and John's chili dog was tainting Sherlock's nostrils.
"That smells putrid." Sherlock decided, picking up the bun on his cheeseburger to see two very small, very sad pieces of bacon sitting on top a slice of unnaturally orange cheese. "Gourmet." He muttered with disappointment.
"Positivity Sherlock, please?" Molly insisted, starting on her salad and forcing a smile as ice burg lettuce hung off of her fork.
"Sorry." Sherlock muttered, staring on his cheeseburger. It may have looked bad, but it was surprisingly good, and before he knew it, all that sat in front of him was a little plastic tray and a half finished cookies and cream milkshake. John was done fairly quickly too, fallen chili splattering his tray and making Sherlock cringe. Molly was still picking at her salad, watching the two of them refuse to talk with amusement.
"So, it turned out to be a nice night as well." Molly decided. "You can really see the stars." As if on command, both Sherlock and John craned their necks to look up at the sky. She was right, of course, a cloudless day turned into a cloudless night, and all of the stars were like little diamonds peppering the beautiful night sky.
"This is why art is beautiful." Sherlock decided.
"Why?" John asked.
"Because no one can ever describe a night sky like that, artist can only plagiarize God." Sherlock decided.
"An artist and a poet, what can't you do?" John asked.
"Pickup lines." Molly suggested, and John looked at her with a laugh.
"I have a weird feeling Sherlock is actually pretty smooth." John guessed.
"Me? I'm as smooth as concrete my friend." Sherlock insisted.
"Just recently we were at a burger joint, and there was this really cute waiter, so Sherlock goes up, and tries to use ketchup to get a date with him, it was..." Molly's sentence was cut off when she saw the faces of her audience. Her smile faded when she saw John's half open mouth, and Sherlock, blushing in shame, looking down on his hamburger tray awkwardly.
"What, you're...you're gay?" John asked, almost not able to believe it. Molly made a small squeaking sound and covered her mouth.
"I'm so sorry, I wasn't thinking." She muttered. Sherlock didn't say anything, crumpling up his napkin and throwing it on his tray, sighing dramatically.
"It was bound to happen." He assured, getting up out of his chair and taking his trash over to the trash can, anything for an excuse to leave the tangible awkwardness that was taking place at the table. When he returned Molly was looking close to tears, wringing her hands together and looking up in an apologetic way. John was staring at the table, tapping his fingers against the painted iron in an attempt to pretend everything was normal.
"Well, are we going to get going?" Sherlock asked, the night obviously ruined.
"Ya, of course." Molly agreed, jumping to her feet so quickly that her chair almost fell behind her. John slowly got to his feet, and the two of them went over to throw away what was left of their meals. Sherlock was still blushing, a hollow feeling in his stomach as he sneaked glances at John, to see his reaction. It had been pretty obvious though, hasn't it? It's not like Sherlock was hiding who he was or anything, and even if John had fallen for the blonde girls thing, any man who wore purple shirts, worked at a coffee shop, and gave his landlord bird sculptures instead of money had to be a little bit suspicious, right? And Sherlock was sure that he had used the word honey at least once in a conversation with John; he had to have his doubts? But John looked shocked, to say the least, maybe even as shocked as he had looked while he was on the phone.
"Back home, I guess?" Molly asked.
"Ya, sounds good." John agreed, very quietly, as if he raised his voice he'd start to yell. Molly seemed very close to tears, she probably thought that she had ruined Sherlock's entire life, but she was wrong, it wasn't her, Sherlock's life was ruined when he first found out he felt nothing for women. That was the day that his normality crumbled. They walked home in a sort of funeral march, all three walking in a line, but this time Molly separated them, as if Sherlock's sexuality made John so uncomfortable that they could no longer walk side by side. Not that Sherlock even wanted to walk side by side with him; he didn't have any feelings on the matter. Only shame. For the first time, he was ashamed that he was gay, he didn't want to see John look at him any differently, he was sure that if he had been straight, this night would've been great, they all would've bonded and looked at the stars and had a grand time. But now they were walking home, wordless and awkward, only because Sherlock liked men. This wasn't how this night was supposed to be. When they reached the apartment building, Molly bid them goodnight, glancing at Sherlock in an apologetic way, and walking into her apartment building, closing the door with a snap. This left John and Sherlock, walking alone up to their apartment building together, an awkward silence penetrating the space between them. When Sherlock finally got to his door he pulled out the key, not even wanting to say goodnight to John, because surely John wouldn't want to say goodnight to him, would he?
"Look, Sherlock, about...you, I don't care, really." John insisted. Sherlock turned around with a sigh, everyone said that. Molly was the only one that kept her word.
"Yes you do." Sherlock sighed.
"No, I don't. It doesn't change anything; we're still friends, who cares? My sister's a lesbian, and I haven't disowned her, I don't care about that either." John assured, and Sherlock looked up in fearful hope.
"Every man I've ever told just pushed me away, whether or not I was flirting with them or not. They're uncomfortable, I assume, because they think that I'll develop a crush on them, or that I'll do something...out of character. But I won't, I'm no different than you." Sherlock insisted.
"I know that." John assured.
"Goodnight John." Sherlock sighed, unlocking his door and disappearing inside.
"Goodnight Sherlock." John muttered, right before Sherlock's door closed.

When Sherlock woke up, the last thing he wanted to do was go to work. The last thing he wanted to do was to walk down the sidewalk with John, try to keep up small talk, to pretend that nothing had changed, when there had been a cavern dug between the two of them. Because everything had changed, and there was no going back. He woke up, changed into his work attire, did his hair, brushed his teeth, and went outside the apartment, walking carefully down the stairs and knocking on Molly's door. When it opened Molly was also in her work clothes, a toothbrush in her hand.
"Oh, Sherlock, I'm so sorry!" she exclaimed, forcing Sherlock into an apologetic hug.
"I'm fine, Molly, it's alright." Sherlock assured, worried for his ability to breathe.
"I'm sorry, I don't know what got into me, everything was going fine, I just had to open my mouth..."
"It's fine Molly, you were telling a story, it went along with the conversation, there's no shame in it." Sherlock assured.
"He's not, mad or anything is he? I mean, I know he's probably uncomfortable, but that doesn't mean that you two can never be friends." Molly insisted.
"No, he said he's fine with it. I guess his sister has got a girlfriend as well, so he's used to being around us crazy homosexuals." Sherlock shrugged.
"Good, good. Well, come in, I'm almost done." Molly decided.
"Usually you're just getting started on your hair, why are you so on schedule this morning?" Sherlock asked.
"Well, I didn't sleep all that well last night, guilt I guess, and I thought that you might not want to walk down with John today, so I decided that I should get a start on things early." Molly shrugged.
"Why wouldn't I want to walk down with him?" Sherlock asked.
"Well, you know, the awkwardness of last night might be, unnerving to say the least." Molly decided.
"Nothing's changed, and we have to make sure that it stays that way. If we don't all walk down together then John is going to feel guilty and in turn not talk to either of us again, he'll think that he alienated us somehow, and he'll feel bad. Don't change anything." Sherlock insisted.
"Right as always." Molly sighed. Sherlock sat down in a dining room chair,waiting for Molly to get ready. Hell Spawn was still asleep in the little kitty bed, her yellow eyes staring at Sherlock suspiciously from afar.
"So, you're alright though, no hard feelings between you and him?" Molly asked.
"No, of course not, why would there be?" Sherlock groaned.
"I don't know, I don't know." Molly shrugged, pulling a brush through her already silky hair.
"I mean, he might be uncomfortable, as all would be, I suppose, I'm uncomfortable with the fact that he might be uncomfortable and when we are both uncomfortable with each other it makes you uncomfortable." Sherlock pointed out.
"Somehow I don't know what you said, please repeat." Molly laughed.
"I'm not sure I can." Sherlock admitted.
"Well, I'm sure it'll be fine. John seemed fine with it, I mean, I wasn't like he slapped you and walked out, like all the others guys do." Molly pointed out.
"That's because I ask them out on dates, they find out I'm gay through context clues and bad flirting. John found out accidentally." Sherlock pointed out.
"Well, maybe that's a good thing." Molly shrugged.
"How is that a good thing?" he asked.
"Well, all the guys you flirt with don't know you. All they know is that you're creepy, you're gay, and you just asked them out. John knows you as you, he knew you as an artist, a financially unstable moron who has the self-confidence of a teaspoon, but also that you're funny, and smart, and relatively charming. He wasn't clouded by prejudice, he saw you as you, not as gay." Molly pointed out.
"Are you suggesting this is a good thing for if I ask him out?" Sherlock asked.
"Well, the others didn't know you, so yes. I think if you asked him out he'd say yes, or at least politely decline, not run." Molly decided.
"Well, I don't want to ask him out. I thought you, of all people, would realize that." Sherlock snapped.
"Oh stop it; I'm always looking for a date for you. You need to be happy." Molly insisted, pulling on her jacket with a smile.
"I am happy; I don't need a man to make me happier." Sherlock snapped.
"Ya, but it will help." Molly insisted.
"Love seems like such a burden." Sherlock decided.
"You can't make that decision until you've actually managed to get a boyfriend." Molly insisted.
"I've seen you and those guys, the ones that you were brave enough to call a boyfriend. They were real pests." Sherlock insisted.
"They weren't the guys for me, obviously." Molly shrugged.
"None of your relationships seem to work out." Sherlock pointed out.
"No, not really. Maybe it's because you swarm them." Molly guessed.
"Or you're gay too! That would be fun wouldn't it?" Sherlock asked.
"I'm not a lesbian, I know that much." Molly insisted.
"But hey, if you want to test that theory, I can get John to hook you up with his sister." Sherlock offered.
"Wow, now I know how you feel all the time." Molly sighed.
"Sucks doesn't it?" Sherlock pointed out as Molly went out the door.
"Just a little bit." She agreed. Even though they were a little bit early, the moment Molly's apartment door shut, John's door opened, and he came walking out the door. This time Dudley wasn't with him, but he looked rather troubled, his smile looking somewhat odd on his face.