Meet You Again

Chapter One

The world was a bright explosion of colors and words.

He came to terms by the age of six that he was one of the very few holding the capability to see, read and decipher each one.

At first, it was a blessing.

 He was special, different from the other kids in his class. Able to grasp a concept before it was even formed and process it, understand it quickly, efficiently, leaving his tutors stunned and amazed and he felt so unique, because no other child could do that. He was different.

By the time he reached twelve, he had learned fairly quickly and painfully that, in fact, this capability was not a blessing, not anymore, but a curse.

  Special, unique, different eventually formed into one word, crude and taunting against his peers tongues: Freak.

The ones that use to come up to him on the playground, holding stolen pieces of their mothers’ jewelry and begging him to do his trick grew to despise him. Hate him even and he didn’t know what to do. How to react as he walked down the halls, freak a low chant under their breaths and their eyes burning holes into his skin until it all became too much and he couldn’t take it anymore.

***

“Amazing.”

   Sherlock blinked, hand pausing as he reached for his wallet and he just...he blinked again, looking up at the barista, because he must of heard wrong or something. He missed something.

     But the blond boy smiled back at him pleasantly, dark blue eyes crinkled with the obvious beginnings of laugh lines at the edges and he looked bright, practically glowing and was that even possible?

“I...excuse me?” and he must of sounded like an idiot now, his mind, for the first time in his life, failing him. But he couldn’t seem to bring himself to move past that one word. No, he hung on to it, clutching it desperately and replayed it over and over again. Amazing.

The blond boy leaned across the counter, holding out a lavender mug, the contents steaming and swirling around them in a delicious aroma of fresh ground coffee beans, thick cream and sugar, still smiling so honest and warm. “What you just did. That was, well it isn’t anything less than extraordinary. Nearly got everything right too.”

  Nearly. That word, that word alone, broke his trance and his surroundings fell back into place, his mind catching up. “Nearly?” he hated that word just as much as he hated wrong. It always, always, meant he missed something . It meant he failed and he couldn’t fail, his mind was the only thing he felt proud of and if he didn’t have that, then what was the point?

The boy nodded, sliding the mug across the counter instead. “Yeah. Uh...I don’t have an older brother. Older sister. But that’s all. You got...well you got everything else right.”

“Sister? Sister! Of course! It’s always something.”

The blond boy laughed, but it was different. It wasn’t at him, no, but with him and that felt odd because no one ever laughed with him before. At him, yes, and he grew accustomed to ignoring it all together, but this boy behind the counter top with laugh lines and a glowing smile, laughed with him and it was pure sounding, no trace of malice in its tone and Sherlock couldn’t stop the warm feeling spreading across his cheeks, nor the way his lips quirked up in an almost smile.

I have to get out of here.

 “I…” he fumbled, cursing his fingers for trembling because there was absolutely no reason for that. After bit of trouble, he managed to pull his wallet from the pocket of his belstaff coat, unfolding the square of leather and yanking the first piece of plastic he saw. “Here.” his hand shook slightly and he cursed himself for this damned transport, acting out like this.

The blond boy gave another little smile (dear lord, stop doing that), taking the small card and swiping it quickly. “Sherlock? That’s different.”

“Problem?” he bit out.

“No. I think it’s nice. Wish my parents had a better imagination.” the barista grinned, handing back the card. “John is by far the most common name on the planet. Don’t you think?”

John. Sherlock wrinkled his nose, taking the card back and sliding it back into his wallet. “Boring.” he said curtly, fingers tingling as he pocketed his wallet and scooped up the mug.

The boy, no, John seemed unfazed by this, nodding in agreement. “I know, I know. Better than my middle name at least.”

He had no time for this (he had all the time in the world and that thought scared the hell out of him.) and he decided to ignore the last sentence, turning swiftly in hopes to end the conversation altogether.

“Oh! Wait. Almost forgot.”

Why am I stopping? He paused, glancing over his shoulder, thick brow raised.

John seemed flustered. “Be sure to return your mug to that little station over there, yeah?” he pointed to the right of him towards a little counter filled with different colored mugs. “Can’t keep the mug, mate, sorry.” he smiled again.

Sherlock swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded stiffly, then turned, retreating hastily to the far end of the little shop.

He drank steaming gulp after another, refusing to look towards the counter even as his heart leapt at the sound of that barista’s voice.

***

((A/N: Welcome to my side story hipster coffee shop thingy. This was going to come soon enough anyways. 

  Okay, here's the deal. This will not be updated regularly. I am still focused on doing Where Do We Go From Here? This, right here, is more of a mess around thing. I thought it'd be cute, so, you know, I'm posting it. Not saying that this won't be updated. It might become another regular along with my other fanfic, but that just all depends.

  My mind tends to wander, people, sorry.

Anywho, if this does become a regular thing, the chapters will be much longer than this, and it might only be six to nine chapters in all. It is nothing serious, so no crimes, just a cutesy little love story between two characters that I do not own in any way or form. 

This is what happens in Pandora is on....Geez.

Anywho, hope you all enjoy this!))