The One Next Door

Forgive and Forget I Suppose

    "Good morning." he said, smiling more at Sherlock than Molly, as if trying to insist that there was nothing weird going on.
"Good morning." Sherlock muttered, suddenly feeling his face get hot and averting his gaze once more. He was still wrestling with that stupid feeling in his head, that pathetic little thought about how perfect John was, still poking at the back of his head with a stick. But now that John knew, that little thought was going to have to not only be squashed, but burned as well. Any sign, every signal that Sherlock was even thinking about having thoughts of a crush on John would probably ruin his relationship with John and his reputation with Molly.
"Good morning John." Molly said cheerfully.
"You guys are up early." John decided.
"Ya, well, kind of a rough night." Molly shrugged.
"I'm sorry, I didn't want to ruin anything, I know that it was a bit, awkward last night." John admitted, obviously not able to deal with the elephant in the room. Hallway. Same thing.
"It's not your fault, it's mine. I let the cat out of the bag." Molly shrugged.
"It's also my fault for not telling you in the first place. It honestly hurt to say that I liked blonde women." Sherlock shuddered, and John laughed a little bit.
"Still have a thing for blondes then?" he pointed out.
"Oh stop, it's been a day! You're supposed to still be tip toeing around me!" Sherlock snapped, and Molly laughed, a real laugh this time.
"Sounds like we're good then." She decided.
"Of course we're good, there's nothing wrong with being gay." John assured, clapping Sherlock on the back so expectantly that Sherlock jumped in surprise.
"Here we go." Sherlock sighed, but he couldn't help but smiling. Just a little bit, to know that everything was sort of back to the way it was. But now it wasn't Molly that was making jokes about his sexuality, it was John. Maybe this was worse than John not talking to him. So the three of them walked down to the coffee shop together, the sun seeming nice a bright, even for this time of day, hope was in the air. The coffee shop was just beginning to open once more, Carl was polishing the register, Sarah was restocking the cups, and Jeanette was taking down the last of the chairs. The sign had not yet flipped to open though.
"Am I even allowed in?" John asked.
"I'm sure you are." Molly assured.
"Could you maybe, ask?" John asked, hovering unsurely at the door, as if afraid to get yelled at. Molly knocked on the door, pointing at John. Jeanette waved her hand in assurance, nodding. Obviously she didn't care at all. So they opened the door, the three of them hanging their coats on the rack and walking over to the counter.
"It's weird, not seeing anyone else in here." John admitted.
"An aspiring employee I hope?" Jeanette laughed as they approached the counter. Molly and Sherlock went behind, but John stayed in front of the counter, not wanting to invade the workspace.
"A faithful costumer, probably not an employee." John admitted.
"I recognize you, you always sit in that booth over there, don't you?" Jeanette asked.
"You're the jerk who had a squabble with Sherlock on his first day." Sarah pointed out. Sherlock groaned, just finishing tying his apron. Protective parent to the unneeded rescue.
"That's settled." Sherlock insisted.
"Ya, I was just stressed out. I was moving in that day; turns out I was moving to their building, we walk down here every day together." John explained.
"I wondered why you always came here with them." Carl pointed out, and all five judgmental faces turned on him. "Sorry." Carl muttered, going back to rubbing cleaning polish over the keys of the cash register. Poor Carl.
"That's a funny coincidence, isn't it?" Jeannette laughed, but Sarah just cracked her knuckles threateningly. John took a careful step back, as if worried Sarah was going to drag him into a back alley and beat him up.
"Chill out." Sherlock muttered, and Sarah just growled, not unlike Hell Spawn when she felt threatened.
"Ya, we're cool now, no hate here." John assured with a dazzling smile. He really was pretty, especially when he was trying to be a supportive, innocent friend. And his teeth were so white and straight, and his lips were so kissable...Sherlock blinked hard, looking down at the counter and pretending to be interested in the stack of napkins.
"If you so much as..." Sarah started.
"Sarah, please don't threaten the costumers." Jeanette sighed, as if this happened a lot. Sarah just frowned, but nodded.
"Whatever that sentence was going to end with, I'm sure that I will not do whatever it is. I have no intentions to do anything threat worthy." John assured, and Sarah nodded with appreciation. "I didn't know Sherlock whined so much about me to his coworkers."
"I don't whine. I simply inform." Sherlock assured.
"In a whiney voice." Molly added, and everyone except Sherlock laughed. Carl even chuckled from behind the register, even though he wasn't officially in on the conversation. Jeanette checked her watch and gasped a little bit.
"Oh crap, we should be open by now. Battle stations!" she exclaimed, rushing over to change the closed sign to open. The costumers rushed in, one after the next after the next, and Sherlock made coffee, passed them out, even took some orders. On all of his free time though, he'd force himself to look away from John, but once in a while his mind took over, and he'd glance over at John to see what he was doing. Usually his pesky neighbor was just staring at his laptop, completely focused on whatever hardware store crap he had to do, other times he would be staring right back at Sherlock, as if he knew that at that exact time, Sherlock was looking at him. That, of course, made Sherlock blush ridiculously, and he'd look away instantly, staring at the counter or pretending to be terribly interested in where the coffee just handed out was going. When the work day was over, they all took off their aprons and called it a day, saying goodbye and retrieving their coats from the coat rack.
"A successful day." Molly decided.
"I suppose." Sherlock shrugged.
"We sold a sale of ten thousand nails to this one company, made a good buck there." John decided happily.
"Who needs ten thousand nails?" Sherlock asked.
"Someone who has too much nail polish." Molly guessed.
"Oh my god, that was just...terrible." John groaned, walking out of the shop with vague amusement.
"So, I know we shouldn't go out to eat or something, but we could, I don't know, picnic in the hallway? That would be fun." Molly suggested.
"You're either pathetically lonely or really trying your hardest to make us all bond. And I don't know which one is more upsetting." Sherlock decided.
"I think now that we have a whole gang, it would be fun to explore the opportunities. I haven't had more than one close friend since college." Molly admitted.
"You never picnicked in the hallway with me." Sherlock defended.
"That's because it would look too much like a date." Molly agreed.
"And who's judging us, Mrs. Turner?" Sherlock asked.
"Yes, if anyone." Molly agreed.
"I just met Mrs. Turner today, she seemed pretty nice." John decided. Sherlock just let out an unbelieving laugh.
"She's the Devil, believe me." Sherlock insisted.
"What happened?" John asked, a crooked smile on his face in anticipation.
"Well, um..." Molly started.
"She had a grandson over, and like I said, I'm a terrible flirt. Long story short, she called the police and beat me with her broom." Sherlock shrugged. He was half expecting the entire mood to drop once more, and John to go 'oh', and look at the sidewalk. Instead he burst out laughing.
"You couldn't fight off Mrs. Turner? She's like, three feet tall!" he insisted.
"She's three feet of pure rage." Sherlock pointed out.
"She made me cookies." John defended.
"She's a nice lady, Sherlock had a biased opinion." Molly assured.
"I had bruises for three weeks!" Sherlock defended.
"Well maybe you deserved it, he was married!" Molly pointed out.
"Like I said before, how was I supposed to know?" Sherlock asked.
"We saw him with his wife the day before!" Molly exclaimed.
"Yes well, he should've told me he was married." Sherlock decided.
"The only thing he wanted to do was get away from you." Molly pointed out.
"Are you really that...aggressive?" John asked.
"No, of course not. It might've been the worst pickup line in the world, but it wasn't like I was forcing him to kiss me or anything." Sherlock defended.
"Maybe I could teach you how to properly pick someone up." John pointed out.
"I'm not strong enough to do that, and then it would really look like kidnap." Sherlock decided.
"I meant, like, a guy, like, pick-up lines and how to be smooth." John insisted.
"Oh, he's hopeless. I bought him this book of pick-up lines and he honestly read from it to someone." Molly pointed out, sounding amused yet exasperated. They arrived at the apartment building, Molly deciding that maybe lunch was better indoors, and saying goodbye.
"So, you still in for those chicken nuggets?" John asked.
"How do you remember that?" Sherlock asked.
"It was only yesterday." John shrugged.
"Yes, and it's not like anything substantial happened yesterday." Sherlock decided.
"You're right, nothing substantial did happen." John agreed. Sherlock just groaned, maybe the only thing worse than John hating him for who he was, was John pretending like he couldn't care less, which was really annoying. Of course something happened, of course there would always be a little nagging in John's brain everywhere he goes, pointing out that Sherlock was gay. It would make all of their meetings from now on a lot more awkward.
"I'll go get my oven mitt." John decided, and he dashed into his apartment, saying hello to Dudley and rushing back inside. Sherlock had just opened his door when John came back with a rooster shaped oven mitt, a real atrocity to be honest, but John smiled proudly.
"Mom got it for me." he explained when he saw the amused look on Sherlock's face.
"Of course." He agreed, letting his door swing open and walking inside. So Sherlock went into his flat, carefully observing the oven of any debris or paper towel before turning it to the appropriate temperature. John came and read the instructions of the bag, pulling out an oven rack and placing ten chicken nuggets on it.
"How many should we make?" he asked.
"Is it just me, or will you be eating them as well?" Sherlock asked.
"I mean, I don't have to eat them if you don't want me to." John shrugged.
"Unfortunately, I owe you one." Sherlock sighed.
"Ha, that's what being nice gets you." John decided triumphantly.
"Don't get all excited, they're just frozen chicken nuggets." Sherlock insisted.
"Oh, but I am excited, I haven't had crappy chicken nuggets since I was in grade school." John insisted.
"Well, neither have I, so this will be a win-win situation." Sherlock decided.
"Yes, I suppose it is." John agreed. Sherlock jumped up onto the counter, kicking his feet against the wooden cabinets and watching the oven temperature slowly rise. John sat up next to him, his little legs swinging around and just barely touching the floor.
"How do you survive in this world being so short?" Sherlock asked.
"I manage. I don't know how you get around; don't you bump your head on all the door frames?" John asked.
"At least people don't step on me." Sherlock defended.
"If anyone steps on me I knock them over, being short I have a good angle to break their nose." John insisted.
"And I have a good angle to give people concussions." Sherlock agreed.
"Like you could ever give someone a concussion." John laughed.
"Oh yes I could! When I was little, I hit someone in the head with a basketball and broke their nose." Sherlock defended.
"That wasn't you doing the hard work, it was the basketball." John insisted.
"Liar, it was all me. I'm great." Sherlock defended.
"You probably can't bench thirty pounds." John decided. Sherlock sighed, looking down at the floor so that John wouldn't see his guilty smile.
"Ya, probably not." He agreed.
"Scrawny little thing you are." John decided.
"It's not like you're four feet of pure muscle." Sherlock defended.
"I'm five six, not four feet!" John insisted.
"I'm six feet." Sherlock decided.
"Six feet of annoying." John agreed. Sherlock just laughed, wanting to playfully hit him or something, but after what had happened last night, Sherlock was sure John wouldn't be so keen on physical contact. No matter what John insisted, things were still awkward.
"So, anything exciting happen at the coffee shop?" John asked.
"No, not much. I made a lot of drinks though; I only had to ask Molly one time how to make something." Sherlock said proudly.
"Wow, you're like a bartender." John laughed.
"Only I don't have to deal with drunk people. Only jerks that attack the workers when their names are spelled wrong." Sherlock pointed out.
"Honestly, it's not that much of a crime to complain! I sat there for like, twenty minutes thinking that you guys had forgotten my drink or something." John defended.
"It was the reaction that was unfair, just because bloody Carl messed something up. I don't know how someone could honestly see a man and think that their name was Joan, but then again, Carl's a bit special, I think." Sherlock guessed.
"I feel bad for him; you all treat him like a ghost." John insisted.
"He doesn't participate in the conversations! How am I supposed to talk to him?" Sherlock asked.
"He does try, but every time he says something everyone glares at him." John pointed out.
"That's because he's weird." Sherlock insisted.
"Everyone's weird, doesn't mean they should be bullied for it." John defended.
"We aren't... fine, I'll talk to Carl more." Sherlock groaned in defeat.
"There we go, see, that wasn't that hard." John insisted.
"It'll be a lot more difficult trying to talk to him." Sherlock agreed. The oven beeped suddenly, almost making Sherlock fall off the counter in shock. John got up, putting on his rooster shaped oven mitt and put the tray in the oven, looking very proud of himself. He took the mitt off and set the timer for fifteen minutes, leaning against the opposite counter as if posing for some catalog. But of course, Sherlock wasn't complaining, if John wanted to strike a pose, he was surely not going to argue.