"Grocery Shopping" - a Wholock fanfic
Grocery Shopping
John never enjoyed going grocery shopping. He preferred to avoid the entire mess altogether: the long lines, the bright florescent lights, the dirty floors, and that blasted chip and pin machine. But it didn't matter what he wanted; someone had to get the groceries and Sherlock never bothered to do it.
John scanned the row of machines and the varying lines of people, wondering which one will go the quickest. Just as he had made his decision, however, a woman frantically ran up to him, gripping on his bad shoulder as if her life depended on it. She was panting hard, her puffy, yellow hair bobbing in all directions. She was wearing a dark coloured evening gown with the bottom edges torn and ripped.
“Have you seen him?” she asked. “Have you seen the Doctor?”
“What?” John sputtered.
“Have you seen the Doctor?” she repeated. “He's kind of tall, has ridiculous hair and an even more ridiculous bowtie. Have you seen him?”
He answered uncertainly, “No, I'm not sure that I have.”
The woman huffed in frustration, “Great. Just great. I swear, if he ever decides to just run off again, I'm going to murder him...again.”
“That bad?' asked John, smiling.
She returned his smile, “Worse. He just runs off like he's invincible and doesn't even bother to tell me first! He keeps thinking he can handle it by himself, but I know he needs someone to look after him and I can't look after him if he's just runs off without notice!”
“I know what you mean,” John replied, chuckling. “My flatmate has the same habit of running off and never bothering to tell me where.”
“And never calls you or answers the phone?” she asked.
John nodded, “If he does, he usually texts.”
“Oh, he?” John felt uncomfortable with the sudden emphasis, “Um, yes, he.”
The woman looked at him, scanning him up and down, “What's your name?”
“Um, John Watson.”
“Oh,” the woman whispered, “oh.”
“What?” he asked, suddenly self-conscious.
“John Watson? The army doctor invalidated from Afghanistan?”
“Yeah, how did you know that?”
“I can just tell,” she replied innocently.
"Is the tan really that bad?” John muttered under his breath.
The woman laughed and held out her hand, “I'm Dr. River Song, archeology.”
“Nice to meet you, Dr. Song,” replied John, shaking her hand.
She smiled, “Likewise and please, just call me River.”
“Alright, River,” John repeated, “how did you know me?”
“Spoilers,” she said, raising a finger to her lips.
“What spoilers?” he pressed.
“You'll see,” River promised nonchalantly. She turned to leave, “I better go and find the Doctor before he gets himself killed. It was nice meeting you, John.”
“It was nice to meet you too, River,” he replied, offering a small wave.
River waved back, then walked the opposite direction of the machines, a little bounce in her step. John returned to the line he was aiming for, getting out Sherlock's debit card in preparation. But just as John approached the machine, he thought he saw a flash of blue light in his peripheral vision. When he turned around to look, there was only a hint of wispy smoke and a faint smell of burnt sugar.