Skinny Love: A Johnlock Fanfiction

Chapter Seven

"Stronger now than me, stronger than you; Our love will always be. And if we let it go, I will try to be there for you if I can. What if I can't?" ~'If I Am A Stranger' by Ryan Adams

John

In the span of thirty minutes, John thought up 137 insulting names he wished to call his boss. He could probably say them all aloud, considering he no longer worked for the man.

It was official. John was now unemployed.

His boss claimed it was due to budget cuts and new government policies. John knew that was bullshit, but he wasn't willing to point out the real reason he was fired. Appparently chasing criminals and investigating murders was not a valid excuse for missing work. He knew it would happen eventually, but it still felt like a punch in the gut.

John finally left the office with conflicting feelings of anger, dread, and humiliation.

"Oh god," He mumbled to himself. "What will Sherlock do?"

He imagined his flatmate looking down on him, his dark eyebrows raised and his lips turned up in a smirk. "I told you it would happen, John. Admit it, you're better suited for a dangerous lifestyle."

But then the vision changed; Sherlock was withering into a skeleton. His jagged face became void of emotion, and his sparkling eyes dimmed to a dull grey. "You promised," His hollow voice seemed to echo as he dissolved into dust. "But I don't need your help. I don't need you, John."

John shut his eyes tightly and willed his wild imagination to silence. He had to stop this constant, life-consuming worry over Sherlock. He was fine. He was at the clinic now-

"Shit!" John gasped and checked his watch. It was nearly six, "I have two hours until his group meeting ends."

He rushed into his office and let out a frustrated groan. He had so much stuff to pack up and no boxes to speak of.

"Maybe Jen has some," He whispered to himself. He was about to head to the secretary's office when a figure appeared in the doorway.

"Are you Dr. Watson?" The woman asked.

"Um, ya," John said, suddenly uncomfortable. "I'm sorry, but I don't work here anymore. I really can't help you."

"Oh, I'm sorry," She said, her eyes wide. "I was just here to renew a prescription for my father, Leonard Kernan. Is that alright?"

"Sure, I suppose it won't take that long," John sighed and ushered her to the seat in front of his desk. "May I see his paperwork?"

"Oh, yes of course!" She said. Her long chestnut hair fell into her eyes as she searched through her leather purse. John couldn't help but notice how pretty she was. She couldn't have been a little older than himself.

She handed him the paperwork with a blinding smile, and John momentarily forgot to breath. He gave an awkward cough and took the papers.

John set to work, watching the woman from the corner of his eye. He tried to deduce her the way Sherlock taught him.

She was gazing around the room, a look of peaceful happiness gracing her features. She seemed content to run errands for her father, possibly due to his frequent health problems and a nagging guilt. Her dark brown eyes were tired. Definitely guilt.

"Who's this?" She suddenly asked, snapping John out of his meager deductions. She was pointing at a photograph resting on his desk. In the cheap wooden frame was a picture of John and Sherlock. It had been taken only a few months ago after a particularly important case. The reporter had been nice enough to send them a copy. Sherlock had hated it, of course, so he let John keep it in his office.

"Oh, that's Sherlock Holmes," John said. "He's a consulting detective."

"I've never heard of that profession before."

"He made it up," John laughed. "He's a strange fellow, that's for sure. He could tell you your life story in a heartbeat. The man is brilliant." A brilliant pain in my arse, John thought.

The woman looked at the photograph closely, her eyebrows furrowed. "Is he your boyfriend?"

"No!" John denied loudly, "I mean, he's my best friend. We solve crimes together, and I blog about it. We share a flat, but it's nothing like that."

Her smile was radiant. "Good, because I'd love to take one of you to dinner tonight."

John felt his heart sink. "Oh," He sighed, defeated. "Well, he's not much for dates, and he's busy tonight, but I could see if he'd want to go out with you sometime-"

"No!" She laughed. "Not Sherlock! You!"

"You want to go on a date with me?" John asked incredulously.

"Don't consider it a date, Dr. Watson," She winked flirtatiously. "Just a little bite to eat."

John gulped and considered his options. Sherlock was still at the clinic, possibly murdering everyone in his vicinity. Or he was having a jolly time and spilling his innermost secrets. John doubted the latter, but he could only hope. Meanwhile, he had a gorgeous woman that wanted to drag his unemployed ass out to dinner. His options were obvious: come to the aid of a surly sociopath that didn't want his help, or go on a date with a beautiful stranger.

"We just met," John pointed out.

"Don't worry, I trust you," She winked again, sending a shiver down his spine.

"Um, oh," John gasped, trying to regain some of his romantic swagger from the past. "Well, what's your name, stranger?"

"Katherine," She said, extending a manicured hand. "Katherine Kernan."

Katherine. That was the name Sherlock had yelled in his sleep.

It must be a coincidence.

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A/N: Hey there, boys and [predominantly] girls!

I think we've all learned an important lesson: I'm a lazy liar. So I'm not even gonna tell you when I update next, because the opposite always comes true. Let's try this: I will update in 2 months. There. Now, if the hex works, I shall update in 3 days (I'd say 2 days, but that's my birthday, and hexes disregard birthdays)!

Good good. Everything's going according to plan.

You're awesome, by the way. I thought you should know.

<3 ~Meg