Almost Lover (a Johnlock Fanfic)

Chapter 3: Anywhere

Sherlock had no way of contacting John over the weekend. He didn't have his number or email, but somehow, something drew John to Speedy's Sandwich Bar & Cafe. Mrs. Hudson usually allowed Sherlock to take the weekends off, but Sherlock came anyway. He needed something to get his mind off...pretty much everything.

He was afraid to contact Irene after what he had told her. Regret was eating away at him, regret that he shouldn't have come out to her.

When John walked in Speedy's Sandwich Bar & Cafe, Sherlock just gawked at him. It took him a moment to come to his senses, but fortunately John hadn't seen him staring. Sherlock's heart beat fast, like he was running. Like he was falling.

John set his arm on the counter. "Hey Sherlock," he greeted him. For a moment, he froze, afraid of what might happen if he opened his mouth.

"Hello, John. What can I get you?" He gave John a rarely seen smile.

"Black, two sugars, please," John returned the smile. Sherlock watched as John sat down, before attending to the coffee. Sherlock's hands trembled as he shook in two sugars. As he was handing John the coffee, a the door blew open, and in stepped Irene. Sherlock was overcome with dread. He trained his eyes on the floor, focusing on an interesting somewhat heart-shaped pebble.

"Hey, Sherlock," she waved, hangover clearly visable. Sherlock looked up, and the rock that held his attention moments ago was crushed under his foot.

"Y-yeah?" He nodded. "Y-your usual?" He reached for an espresso.

"Hey, Sherlock," She put a hand on his arm. "You seem...nervous," She tilted her head. Sherlock glanced at John, sitting in the corner. He expected Irene to make some remark about it. But she tilted her head even farther. "What? Is there something you're not telling me?"

Sherlock searched her face for any sign that she remembered last night. Sherlock deduced that she was out late, into the early hours of the morning, and that she had more drinks than she should have, and that she had turned down a man she had met there. She must have been so drunk that she didn't even remember the phone call. Sherlock stepped back.

"It's nothing..."

"Um, okay," She frowned. "Listen, I was wondering if maybe tonight you, um, wanted to come to a party," Sherlock stood there for a second.

"I-" he didn't know what to say. Here was a second chance, a chance to mend last night's...whatever had happened. He smiled. "Sure." He told her.

"Okay, I'll pick you up around seven thirty. I've gotta dash, going shopping with a friend," She said. She grabbed her espresso and waved, sashaying out the door. Sherlock sighed and got back to work.

"Hey, Sherlock, can I talk to you for a second? In private." John's quiet voice wormed its way into Sherlock's ear.

"Of course, John." He racked his brain for a place he knew that could be considered private. Eventually, John and Sherlock headed outside, where October air bit at their hands and reddened their cheeks. "So, John, what did you want to talk to me about?"

"Well, I'm a knew student and all, but I don't have a place to stay. I'm sharing with a my friend Mike, but he's moving in a couple of weeks. Do you know a place?" John looked up at him.

Sherlock was the last person to ask about these type of things, but he didn't want to disappoint John. He racked his brain, but couldn't come up with a place.

"Sorry, no," He told John.

"Listen, what I was really going to ask you-"

A bird squawked overhead, interrupting John.

"What I'm trying to say is-"

He got cut off again as the honk of a car pierced the air.

"Sherlock, I-"

Someone was thrown out of a store, the manager yelling at them for shoplifting and pounded his fist.

"Oh, fuck this." John looked up, and stood on his tiptoes. His face grew closer to Sherlock, and he closed his eyes. Sherlock had no idea what he was doing, he only realize when John had his arms wrapped around his neck, and was kissing him full on in the mouth.

Sherlock had never been kissed before. At least, not like that. Of course he hadn't not been kissed before. There were always those meaningless pecks on the lips, those spin-the-bottle smooches. But this kiss was different. This kiss burned with a fiery passion that his other kisses lacked. Sherlock's eyes widened, but then he, too, closed his eyes. They were wrapped around each other, kissing. Sherlock knew the kiss couldn't last, yet he wasn't the one to break it.

John pushed Sherlock away. Not roughly, but not gently. "Not here," He breathed in Sherlock's ear. He took Sherlock's hand and before he started pulling them through the crowd, he started looked Sherlock in the eyes, as if asking permission to hold Sherlock's hand. Sherlock squeezed it, and the maneuvered through the street.

"Where are we going?" Sherlock asked.

"Where do you want to go?" John whispered.

"Anywhere," he smiled.

"Anywere?" John smirked. "Well, how about my apartment first?"



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