Human Error_404 [Johnlock]

1

[844 words]

   John yawned and slowly stretched out his limbs, groaning as his back cracked with everytime he arched it. His toes let out quiet and muffled pops from under the covers as he blinked a few times to adjust his eyesight. Sherlock was already working away, maybe another experiment as John heard a few glass objects tumble then shatter. He sighed and pulled some clothes on, possibly they could go out tonight. Although Sherlock wouldnt eat, it would still be nice to have his company for dinner or lunch. John slowly walked doen the stairs, lightly handling the railing as the wooden voards creaked under his weight. Sherlock groaned in annoyance after not getting the desired product and put his head down against the cluttered 'dining' table.

"Sherlock, what are you doing?" John's question came out a little more irritable than he intended but he still stood by it and leaned on the door frame. Sherlock ran a hand through his dark curls and ignored John, working again to try and get the right component onto the eyeball. "That's disgusting d'you know that, Sherlock." John faced away from the concentrated man next to him and looked for supplies to make tea.

Sherlock hummed in reply and leaned back into his chair to better see the discolored eye. He grunted as the eyeball dropped from his tongs and onto the floor making a soft squish sound as it slightly bounced upon the exceptionally clean floorboards.

John set Sherlock's cup of tea next to him and he nodded to let john know he saw it. John sighed and sat in his arm chair, looking at the curtained window. This week had been slow, not many cases, leaving Sherlock utterly bored. Within the last 3 days, several new bullet holes had made their appearance on the wall next to the yellow smiley. A small bunch of papers sat around Johns laptop as he took it and looked over his blog.

"Sherlock, Do you want to go out to eat tonight?" John called to his best friend without facing him. Sherlock jerked up at Johns proposal and thought for a moment.

"Okay." He said almost emotionlessly. John huffed and began looking up places to go.

"Italian?" John's voice was semi hopeful that Sherlock would eat this time.

"Sure." Sherlock began working on the eye again, dropping small amounts of liquid compounds onto various areas of it.

"Be careful, Sherlock." John looked at him cautiously and stepped into the bathroom.

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John got dressed, as usual in his jeans, throwing on a white tshirt and a jumper. The night would be chilly but he pressumed he had all he needed. As he made his way back down the stairs, his shoes making the floor click underneath him, he saw sherlock tying his scarf.

"Right," He clasped his hands together, moving his weight to his other leg. "Ready then?" Sherlock nodded and stepped out of the flat, trusting john to lock the door on his own. Sherlock had hailed a cab already, sitting inside waiting for John to join him.

As John say down and put his seat belt on he gave the address to the driver and leant back tapping his fingers on his thighs patiently. Sherlock gave John a look through furrowed brows, "Something wrong, John?" He stared at his movements carefully taking in information.

"What? No nothing." John slightly hummed a tune and looked out of the cab's tinted windows. The buildings rushing by like a blur.

Sherlock looked at John as he stared out the window like a sad teenager. He looked at the way John's hair lay, short and a little messy. Without thought, Sherlocks hand had brushed a stray strand in John's hair. His slender fingers retreating as he blinked.

"Sorry, John.. It was sticking out." Sherlock smiled sheepishly, and John brushed it off as they arrived.

The place John picked was nice, the waitresses eyeing Sherlock as soon as they stepped in. John noticed all of their body language.

When they sat down at the back of the restuarant, various waitresses came by, asking for sherlocks number, or just to flirt. Sherlock's expression never changed and he seemed unfazed by the unwanted attention. His eyes fixated on John's face, studying his features intently. Another waitress came forward with their food, leaning extra low seemingly to give Sherlock a show to which he reoliied with a look of slight disgust and clear disinterest.

John snickered to himself and looked at his pasta. Sherlock had ordered a salad and was picking at it, pushing a cherry tomato around the plate.

"Sherlock, are you gonna eat?" John got some of his pasta onto his fork and took a bite, staring at Sherlock. He watched his friend take a bit of lettuce in his fork and slowly put it to his mouth.

"Yes? I think."

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John said goodnight to Sherlock and right as he had closed the door to the flat, he heard Sherlock start playing his violin. The soft melancholy sound set John into a much needed rest.