(Since you guys seem to be liking this, I'll be making this chapter a little bit bigger this time; this is my first Johnlock, so any pointers are appreciated!
P.S. Is it bad that I wrote this while listening to Runaway Bride? :P)
Sherlock sat at the corner booth of Angelo's, completely hidden by the shadows and doing his best to seem like a regular patron; drumming his fingers against the wood of his table, his mind delving into several problems and analyzes, all trying to keep his attention away from the pair of men sitting just a few tables away from him and the way that one of them seemed to be having far too much fun for someone who was 'still not comfortable about all of this'.
It had been a week since John had agreed to pretend to be interested in Mark Dupree-thirty-three, single, renting a flat on the other side of Baker Street, 6'4", and a rather loud laugh that was currently getting on Sherlock's last nerve-and John had so far been on five 'dates' with the man. It was a study in contrasts when it came to these 'outings'; John would stomp around the flat, grumbling about how the whole thing was idiotic and that he was making a right tit of himself, then he could come home at the end of the evening and hum while he made his tea, telling Sherlock everything that had happened with this... *grin* that made Sherlock decidedly uneasy.
The first time this had happened, Sherlock had questioned John about it and had received a rather cryptic, "He just knows how to get a bloke to unwind, Sherlock, and sometimes I need that after a day with you." as a response. It was baffling; Sherlock had never *forced* John to come with him on cases, and if his flatmate had a problem with coming on cases with him, why had he not said so before...?
Sherlock did not inquire about Mark after that, and John did not offer up any more information, but continued to go on these 'not-a-date' with him, asking if Sherlock had found out what he needed and sighing with exasperation each time Sherlock told him that he needed to keep looking.
It was being to exasperate Sherlock as well that he could not find what he was looking for, as well as the time that John was starting to spend with Mark instead of with Sherlock; it seemed like every time he had need of his flatmate, all he got was a "With Mark. Will text later." as a reply. It was starting to get worrisome, and had led to Sherlock's clandestine appearance at Angelo's tonight to see what it was that was so captivating about Mark Dupree...
John had the uncanny impression that he was being watched all through his dinner with Mark.
He had become accustomed to being picked up regularly by Mycoft by now, was pretty sure that the elder Holmes brother was keeping at least one CCTV camera on him at all times, but this sort of watched feeling had a much more *familiar* feel about it, and if John wasn't dead sure that Sherlock found the whole relationship thing 'transport', he would bet good money that he was in the restaurant with the pair of them.
But that was ridiculous, wasn't it...?
"I'm boring you, aren't I?"
"Hum? Sorry, what?" John tuned back into the present to realize that Mark was looking at him with this soft smile on his face that made John think that he probably missed something important while getting lost inside his head. Putting on what he hoped was a reassuring smile, John tried to remember what his companion was talking about and unfortunately coming up blank, which Mark seemed to expect, if his own smile was anything to go by..."No, no, I was listening to every word that you said!"
"And what," Mark asked, reaching forward to sip his wine in a way that reminded John of a much taller, paler skinned man, "did I say, exactly?"
Once again, John tries to remember where the conversation was going, what exactly it is that Mark was going on about, but his mind is too full of thoughts of his flatmate sneaking out to spy on his date and imagining him wearing one of those beards while hiding behind a newspaper. It's that thought that makes him smile as he shakes his head at Mark, muttering a soft, "Sorry."
Mark just shakes his head and places his hand over John's, whose brain shouts at him that the fingers are the wrong length, and the skin too dark...
John/OC Johnlock Part 2/?
P.S. Is it bad that I wrote this while listening to Runaway Bride? :P)
Sherlock sat at the corner booth of Angelo's, completely hidden by the shadows and doing his best to seem like a regular patron; drumming his fingers against the wood of his table, his mind delving into several problems and analyzes, all trying to keep his attention away from the pair of men sitting just a few tables away from him and the way that one of them seemed to be having far too much fun for someone who was 'still not comfortable about all of this'.
It had been a week since John had agreed to pretend to be interested in Mark Dupree-thirty-three, single, renting a flat on the other side of Baker Street, 6'4", and a rather loud laugh that was currently getting on Sherlock's last nerve-and John had so far been on five 'dates' with the man. It was a study in contrasts when it came to these 'outings'; John would stomp around the flat, grumbling about how the whole thing was idiotic and that he was making a right tit of himself, then he could come home at the end of the evening and hum while he made his tea, telling Sherlock everything that had happened with this... *grin* that made Sherlock decidedly uneasy.
The first time this had happened, Sherlock had questioned John about it and had received a rather cryptic, "He just knows how to get a bloke to unwind, Sherlock, and sometimes I need that after a day with you." as a response. It was baffling; Sherlock had never *forced* John to come with him on cases, and if his flatmate had a problem with coming on cases with him, why had he not said so before...?
Sherlock did not inquire about Mark after that, and John did not offer up any more information, but continued to go on these 'not-a-date' with him, asking if Sherlock had found out what he needed and sighing with exasperation each time Sherlock told him that he needed to keep looking.
It was being to exasperate Sherlock as well that he could not find what he was looking for, as well as the time that John was starting to spend with Mark instead of with Sherlock; it seemed like every time he had need of his flatmate, all he got was a "With Mark. Will text later." as a reply. It was starting to get worrisome, and had led to Sherlock's clandestine appearance at Angelo's tonight to see what it was that was so captivating about Mark Dupree...
John had the uncanny impression that he was being watched all through his dinner with Mark.
He had become accustomed to being picked up regularly by Mycoft by now, was pretty sure that the elder Holmes brother was keeping at least one CCTV camera on him at all times, but this sort of watched feeling had a much more *familiar* feel about it, and if John wasn't dead sure that Sherlock found the whole relationship thing 'transport', he would bet good money that he was in the restaurant with the pair of them.
But that was ridiculous, wasn't it...?
"I'm boring you, aren't I?"
"Hum? Sorry, what?" John tuned back into the present to realize that Mark was looking at him with this soft smile on his face that made John think that he probably missed something important while getting lost inside his head. Putting on what he hoped was a reassuring smile, John tried to remember what his companion was talking about and unfortunately coming up blank, which Mark seemed to expect, if his own smile was anything to go by..."No, no, I was listening to every word that you said!"
"And what," Mark asked, reaching forward to sip his wine in a way that reminded John of a much taller, paler skinned man, "did I say, exactly?"
Once again, John tries to remember where the conversation was going, what exactly it is that Mark was going on about, but his mind is too full of thoughts of his flatmate sneaking out to spy on his date and imagining him wearing one of those beards while hiding behind a newspaper. It's that thought that makes him smile as he shakes his head at Mark, muttering a soft, "Sorry."
Mark just shakes his head and places his hand over John's, whose brain shouts at him that the fingers are the wrong length, and the skin too dark...