Voice of a Stranger (Johnlock)

The Blog

Want to come over tonight for dinner? – SH

John was surprised by the text from Sherlock. Usually John was the one texting Sherlock, fearing that he was being a pest.

Sure. Are we just going to get take-away? I could pick it up on the way over, if you like. - JW

While he waited for a response, John pulled out his tally sheet. He'd been better this week, checking off the boxes for his nutrition and exercise plans.

The dating boxes were unchecked since the last attempted date with Sarah. Lately, they'd been sharing slightly uncomfortable looks. John was pretty sure any chance he had with her was blown. They'd probably be fine eventually as friends and co-workers. John was good at befriending his ex's.

No, I'll be cooking. – SH

Really??? – JW

He was really surprised at this. He had only seen Sherlock made toast on his own, and reheat leftovers. He had been good at simple tasks like chopping vegetables when he'd helped John before, but clearly didn't have much experience.

Shepherd's Pie. From scratch. Are you coming or not? – SH

Woah. Sherlock making real food. Who woulda thunk? John just shrugged, and replied.

Wouldn't miss it for the world. About 6 pm, OK? - JW

John looked down at his clothes, and wished he had time to go home and change. But then he sighed. This wasn't a date. This was only two friends hanging out together. What he was wearing was fine.

Fine. Be punctual. – SH

Funny how only Sherlock could come across as imperious with just a few text messages. John shook his head, and tucked his phone into his pocket.

He was looking forward to seeing Sherlock. But he'd seen too many scary things in that kitchen the first night to fully trust Sherlock's new found culinary skills. On the way out, he stopped at the news shop on the ground floor and bought a couple of granola bars, tucking them into his jacket pocket. If the meal was inedible, he could maybe sneak off to the washroom and at least eat them. Keep his stomach from grumbling loudly.

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Sherlock opened the door, looking a little more rumpled than he usually did. There was a smudge of something on his cheek, his hair was sticking up a little on one side, and his complexion was a bit flushed, likely from the heat in the kitchen. He was wearing a turquoise apron over his clothes, with a sentence spelled out in a curvy font, 'I'm just a Cupcake looking for my Stud Muffin.'

John stifled a chuckle as he stepped into the apartment, hanging his coat up.

Sherlock looked down at the apron with a slight grimace. "Mrs. Hudson lent this to me. A hilarious gift from her sister, apparently." He ran a hand through his hair, leaving it looking more normal.

Pity. John liked seeing Sherlock a bit messed up. "It smells good, Sherlock." He was pleasantly surprised at that, actually.

Sherlock went over to the oven, peering inside. "It will be ready in about five minutes. Wine?"

Nodding, John perched on the arm of the sofa, looking into the kitchen where Sherlock moved around, looking unexpectedly comfortable. But then John realized it had almost been two weeks since he got the concussion, and Sherlock had been preparing his own meals since then. It made sense that he had gained some proficiency. Sherlock passed him a glass of white wine.