Almost Lover (a Johnlock Fanfic)

Chapter 1: John Watson

Goodbye, my almost lover,
Goodbye, my hopeless dream,
'm trying not to think about you,
Can't you just let me be?

So long, my luckless romance,
My back is turned on you,
I should've known you'd bring me heartache
Almost lovers always do.

Sherlock's alarm clock was set to play a random song every day at 6:05 AM. Today, it was "Almost Lover" by A Fine Frenzy. Sherlock always liked songs about love. Somehow, they comforted him, even though he had never even been in love himself. For a blissful moment of rest, Sherlock just lied in the warm sheets, savoring the beautiful voice pouring out of the alarm clock, before realizing he was already ten minutes late for classes.

As the last lyrics brought the song to a close, Sherlock jumped out of bed. In less than ten minutes, he had showered, dressed, and wolfed down a few of yesterday's muffins, just as the hum of a red Mercedes pulled into the parking lot that his flat overlooked. Gathering his books, he dashed out the door.

Irene was waiting for him. Irene Adler was Sherlock's best, and possibly only friend. They had met when they were five, and that friendship had carried them all the way into collage. Irene waved to him from the driver's seat. Her silky brown hair was in a messy bun, and she had bleached the ends of it. As Sherlock climbed into the passenger's seat, he was met with her horrified stare.

"Sherlock, I told you never to wear that ugly purple shirt again!" She rolled her eyes. "If we weren't already late, I would drag you back inside your messy excuse of a flat and pick something suitable for you to wear!"

Irene was a horrible driver. She couldn't drive to the university without honking at innocent pedestrians, almost running over a businessman, and earning glares from everyone else on the road.

After a long, nightmarish twenty minutes of Irene behind the wheel, the university was in sight. Sherlock often complained that he could walk, but Irene still showed up every day at 6:05 to pick him up. his flat was in the opposite direction of the school, and Irene could easily reach Scotland Yard University in a mere five minutes if it wasn't for him.

Irene and Sherlock were among the last people in. Sherlock got to his first class just as the bell rang and the last of the students were trickling in. As he scanned the room, he realized all of the good seats at the back of the room were taken, so he was forced to sit front and center. Sherlock hated the front row, it always seemed like he was being shown off for being a good student.

If Sherlock had looked around, he might have noticed the new face in the room. But it was only until the teacher motioned for him to come up front that Sherlock knew of John Watson's existence.

"This is your new student, John Watson," Mrs. Hudson smiled. She was a frail old woman, and yet the only teacher who Sherlock knew personally. She had been kind enough to give him a job at Speedy's Sandwich Bar & Cafe.

The class murmured a forced "welcome" and Mrs. Hudson smiled as John Watson slid into the seat next to Sherlock. As she lectured to the class, Sherlock became more absorbed with John Watson. There was something different about him, and yet even the genius Sherlock Holmes couldn't figure it out.

"What?" The word floated around Sherlock's brain until he realized that the question had come from John's mouth. The only thing Sherlock could think was that John Watson had a nice voice.

"Why are you staring at me?" He asked.

"Oh...I, um-" Sherlock stammered. "I don't think I've s-seen you here before. You new?"

"No shit, Sherlock. The teacher just announced me to the entire class."

"Did she?" Sherlock murmured absentmindedly.

"She did. Since I'm new here, do you know a good place to get lunch? I'm a vegetarian and I don't eat anything offered here." John asked casually.

Sherlock opened his mouth. "I-" for a moment he was speechless. "Try Speedy's Sandwich Bar & Cafe. It's about ten minutes walk from here, but less, since you'll have to take a cab."

"Why would you think I have to take a cab?" John asked.

"Well, considering you've got a limp," Sherlock gestured to John's leg. "That your therapist thinks is psychosomatic, quite right, too."

John Watson nodded. "Since you didn't hear Mrs. Hudson announce me, I'm John. John Watson." He extended his hand, and it took Sherlock a moment to grasp it.

"Sherlock Holmes."