Organised Chaos - Sherlock x Reader

V • 5

Three days later, you got a call from a café down the street. You had applied as a waitress, and they had accepted. You were ecstatic.
You grabbed your coat and rushed out the door, not even bothering to hail a cab.
You arrived at the café winded and slightly flushed.
Sailing over to the counter, you panted, "Hey, I'm (F/N). I just got a call that I was hired as a waitress?"
The clerk looked at a sheet of paper. "Ah yes, Ms. Watson. I'll show you around." He gestured for you to follow him.

You received a short tour of the café, then you were given a schedule. You would start after lunch.
You went home and took a shower, then did your hair up in a neat twist. Several strands fell out around your face and you tucked them behind your ears. You did your makeup, keeping it simple, then rummaged in your bags for a presentable outfit. You came up with black skinny jeans and an off-white blouse.
Checking your watch, you realised it was already 11:30. You hurried to the kitchen and threw together a quick lunch.
Sherlock had been surprisingly cooperative with keeping his 'experiments' in the drawer you had set aside for them, so you didn't have to swallow your stomach when you looked in the fridge.

"Bye Sherlock!" You called.
"Where are you going?" He replied, sounding almost concerned.
"I got a job." You sang, grabbing your coat.
"Oh." He mumbled.
You rolled your eyes. Going over to the sofa where he was lying, you kissed his forehead and said, "I'll be back in a bit."
You noticed his cheeks go red and you smiled to yourself.
You struggled to reign in your excitement, but hailed a cab anyway. You couldn't be a sweaty mess on the first day.

The job suited you well, what with your energy and polite behaviour. You managed to charm most all of your customers, and received generous tips.

You were in a very good mood as you walked home from the café that evening.

******

Sherlock's POV:

I hadn't even bothered to text you, I knew you'd ignore me, but I was still forlorn. I didn't understand the empty feeling I had in my chest whenever you left. I felt lonely, almost betrayed. I wished you would stay with me. I knew that was impractical, that you needed this job, but I still felt alone when you left. I quickly understood that this was different than it was with John. Sure, I missed John when he went to work, but this was utter loneliness. Complete desperation. I didn't get it.

******

"I'm back, Sherlock!" You called, merrily.
I fought the urge to meet you at the door with a hug. That wasn't the me you knew, so I stayed where I was on the sofa, but allowed a smile to creep onto my usually expressionless face.

******

Your POV:

It was on your third day at work that you met him. He was sitting alone at a table near the window, looking out at the wet streets of London. It had been raining for two days.
You made your way to the table and begun your routine.
"I'm (F/N), I'll be taking care of you today, can I get you a drink?" You smiled warmly at the man.
"Just water, please." He spoke in an Irish accent, and smiled back, showing a mouth full of very white teeth. He was dressed impeccably, in a grey three piece, a slim black tie, and ridiculously shiny black shoes.
'Probably government.'
You thought as you walked away with his order, feeling slightly charmed by his calm and kind demeanour.

He showed up every day after that, always with the same attitude, so that after a time, you befriended him.
Jim, he said his name was.
He'd come from Dublin, but moved to London some years ago.
It was a Tuesday when you sat down with him during your lunch break.
Barely a minute into your conversation, Sherlock texted you twice, simultaneously.
Come quickly if convenient. - SH
If inconvenient, come just the same. - SH
This was his favourite means of summoning you. It rarely ever turned out to be important. You rolled your eyes at your phone.
"Might I inquire what just caused you to sass silently at your mobile device?" Jim asked with a humourous overtone.
"Oh, it was just Sherlock texting me again." You replied dismissively.
"Sherlock?"
"Oh goodness, I don't believe I've told you about him. How rude of me. He's a friend, my flatmate, actually. He's truly hard to deal with, I must say, He's a detective. A consulting detective. And before you ask, yes, he made up that job title. It means that when the police are stuck he sets them straight. I suppose he is a genius, but he flaunts that too readily in my opinion. He's rather stuck up and doesn't understand human emotion. He calls himself a 'high-functioning sociopath'. Although I must admit I do have a bit of a crush on him. I guess that comes with living with him."
Jim smiled. "I'd like to meet this Sherlock, he seems like an interesting character."
"Mm, that's for sure. I'm honestly surprised you don't know him already, he's a bit of a celebrity around here." You glanced over his shoulder when the bell on the door rang and buried your head in your hands when you saw who it was.
"He actually just came in." You muttered to Jim with a roll of your eyes and he smiled like he understood exactly what you felt. You got up to greet Sherlock.
"What are you doing here?" You whispered through gritted teeth.
"Am I not allowed to go out for lunch?" Sherlock asked, innocently.
"Sure, but we both know that was not your intention."
"Maybe so-" He stopped talking when Jim came up and laid a hand on your shoulder. You saw Sherlock's eyes narrow just the tiniest bit and you introduced them before he could say anything.
"Sherlock, Jim. Jim, Sherlock. And Sherlock, try to be pleasant." You said with a threatening look towards the latter.
Sherlock faked a smile and shook Jim's hand. "It's nice to meet you." He lied.
"And you." Jim said with a genuine smile.
"I'm sorry, (F/N), but I really must be going." He said, turning back to you.
"Of course, see you tomorrow." You smiled.
Sherlock dragged you over to a table and sat you down.
"I really don't like him, (F/N)"
"You don't like anyone." You snapped, pulling your hand out of Sherlock's.
"No, I mean I really don't like him,
(F/N). I don't trust him." He looked down.
"Sherlock!" You sighed dramatically. "You can't choose my friends for me, you're not my father!"