How We Unfold (SherlockBBC; Johnlock)

Chapter 8: The Date

John

Suddenly it's Friday. I don't know where the week has gone, it seems to have slipped by without my notice. Time is sneaky like that sometimes. It does this funny little trick where it changes and leaves you behind. I feel like that sometimes, like I'm left behind. Stuck. And things change so quickly around me. But I try not to dwell on that. So it's Friday. Which means tonight's the date with Mary. And I can't mess this up, this time.

And to be honest, I am actually a bit excited. Mary hasn't given up on me, despite having enough cause to do so. And this could always lead to something more, I'm just not entirely sure what that "something" is yet. But for tonight, I'm not going to worry about that. Tonight, it's just going to be about enjoying Mary. Of course, I may have to impress her a bit.

I have a nice dinner planned. I'll have to cook, which has me slightly nervous. But I know she'll appreciate the effort. So, after taking a very thorough shower and getting dressed I inspect the kitchen. I remember from my earlier scrutiny that the kitchen is rather lacking in the food department, so it doesn't take long before I have to accept the fact that unless Mary wants canned soup, which I doubt, I'll have to go shopping. I've dressed modestly, simple jeans and striped jumper, in case I make a mess while cooking, but I look nice enough to go out. With new motivation I grab my keys off of the counter and slide my feet into my shoes by the door. I grab my coat off the rack and slip it on as I descend the stairs.

"Are you going out, Dear?" Mrs. Hudson's voice nearly causes me to jump when I reach the bottom step. I turn quickly and smile at her. She's leaning out of her parted door, her short hair barely dried from the shower.

"Uh, yeah. Just to the market." I zip up my coat.

"When might you be back?"

"Soon, I won't be long."

"Good, you really ought to stock up, dear. It's a bit empty, your kitchen." A sad look shows on her face.

"Ah, yes, of course." I nod. She smiles sweetly at me before closing her door leaving me alone in the hall. I make my exit and inhale sharply against the icy autumn air.

The rubber soles of my shoes beat against the cement lightly. My breath fumes from my lips. My hair bows to the breeze. I've come to enjoy these moments. Quiet walks to the market. They give me time to think. I quicken my pace and round the corner, avoiding people along the sidewalk. The store is fairly close to the flat so I don't mind the walk, and it passes rather quickly.

I arrive at the store and begin browsing aimlessly through the isles. It occurs to me that I haven't actually figured out what I will cook for dinner this evening, and I hadn't asked Mary what she might like. But I know I have to make something spectacular to make up for forgetting our last dinner. Problem is, I haven't any clue what I should make, or for that matter, how to make it. I like to pretend my culinary knowledge is something to be proud of, but, in truth, it isn't very vast. It's quiet limited in fact.

So I stand mindlessly in the produce isle, my eyes trailing over the many options. Should I make a salad? Does Mary even like salads? What if by making a salad she thinks I'm implying she ought to eat healthier? Or worse, that she needs to lose weight?

I roll my eyes. It can't be this complicated. Maybe I'll make salad as a side, and something more filling as the main course. That's what people normally do, isn't it? God, it's been so long since I've had a normal meal. Life since Sherlock left has consisted of canned soup, take-out, and more canned soup. Which I made by heating it up in the microwave. I can't remember the last time I turned the stove on. I try to ignore the nerves chewing away at my stomach.