A World Upended (3/?)
Author: Sfumatosoup
Fandom: Sherlock BBC
Pairing: Sherlock/John Genre: Angst/Romance/Adventure/Humour
Words: 32,000/?
Disclaimer: I do not own. All Gatiss and Moffat and Doyle. No plan to profit.
Rating: Mature. Nothing too explicit (yet). Lot’s of UST. I do promise eventual porn. For real. It will happen. Warning: LONG!fic, Spoilers for all BBC eps as well as for canon FINA, SIGN and EMPT (eventually). All main characters and even one or two OC’s. Not brit-picked and self-beta’d so if you see errors or things that need to be changed please let me know. Status: WIP (10/15/11- ?)
Summary: Merciless teasing, misunderstandings (understatement.), jealousy, (sexual?)tension, etc. It's complicated. (P.S.: Abuse against watercoolers.)
'...John wanted to just fall back into his grave and hope that the sod would simply be kind enough to follow suit and bury him...'
...
Amal sat down across the resin table, topping off his mug.
John wearily cradled his face in his hands. God, his eyes hurt. He should've tried for a few more hours of sleep.
“Don’t worry. I didn’t say anything, John. I know how it is in the work world. Folks aren’t always so accepting.”
John glanced up at Amal catching his twinkling expression and frowned. “That. Yesterday? I was honestly telling you the truth. Sherlock and I? That’s not going on. He just… he acts. You know? He does it for his own amusement. He gets off on it or something.”
Amal smiled kindly. “As I said, John, don’t worry about it. The two of you aren’t involved. I understand.”
John breathed out a sigh of relief. Amal really was an upstanding bloke.
Thankfully, to John’s relief, they changed the subject and argued for a bit about the recent Leeds United vs. Manchester match, and Amal suggested supper. John agreed.
…
“Getting ready for your date?”
“It’s not a date, Sherlock.”
“You’re wearing your Loughton Merino. It’s a date.”
“Its supper. Mates. Going for supper. Not a date.”
“Oranges and apples.”
“What?”
“Whatever you call them, they’re still fruit.”
John winced.
“It’s a logical assumption that when a homosexual man asks another man he presumes is of according bent out to supper, that he considers it a date.”
“Not. A. Date,” John bit out, pulling on his jacket, “I’m leaving now. Sherlock.”
“Have a good time, John,” Sherlock leered, “On your date. With your date.”
John seethed. It was very much not a date.
…
Amal leaned back in his chair and gazed over his wine glass at his companion, “I’m very glad we’ve become friends, John.”
John felt the familiar flush creep onto his face.
“Oh, yes. Well.”
“You know,” Amal smiled, his teeth bright against his swarthy complexion, “I got out of this…relationship back six months ago, and when I moved here, I was so nervous. You know? Leaving all my mates and my family back in Durham, but you really put me to ease.”
The man gently touched the tips of John’s fingers resting on the table. “You’re really… a good man, John.”
John pressed his lips together, anxiously conscious of the other man’s direct expression, and pulled his hand back into his lap, fingers still tingling from the light touch.
“Yes,” John cleared his throat, “Well, we certainly get on just fine. You’ve er…proven yourself highly at the clinic. I wouldn’t be surprised if you were offered something permanent.”
Amal grinned.
“I’d definitely put in a word for you.”
“That means a lot that you would say so, John. I very much respect your opinion,” he said fondly, “as you know.”
They continued on companionably well into the night.
And John sighed inwardly. Alright, so perhaps the man had a small… crush. It didn’t hurt anyone. And he was sort of flattered if not a bit wary. He hated that Sherlock was probably right about the ‘date’ thing.
…
“So. You’re back late.”
John looked up to find Sherlock fiddling with some peculiar contraption, while the telly flickered silently in the background.
“I take it your date went well.”
John sighed, “Look Sherlock, he’s a good friend. We have a lot in common. He might be a bit…fond. Of me. But it doesn’t mean anything. Doesn’t matter.”
Sherlock shrugged dismissively, and John joined him taking a seat and flipping the telly off from mute.
He made a decision then and there.
…
“Hi Diane,” John greeted as the receptionist came into the break room.
“Hi, Dr. Watson,” She nodded cordially.
“John,” he corrected and cleared his throat, “I was wondering if you wanted to grab a bite later. If you’re free.”
“Oh,” She stopped, looking at John with a small, puzzled frown, “I er. Would love to. But. I’m…I’ve a friend in town. She’d be a bit put out if I abandoned her. You know, she’s sort of not from… around here?”
“Oh. That’s fine. No problem. Another time, then.”
“Yeah,” she responded strangely, and all but bolted out the door as Amal entered.
“She looked like she was in a hurry,” he said with an amused smirk.
“Uh. Yeah,” John frowned.
Damn. Damn. It couldn’t be what he thought. No. Scratch the idea.
Amal heated up water in a mug for some tea.
“So. Guess what,” he prodded excitedly.
John glanced up. Oh right. That. He hid his grin.
Amal had, days before, at last received his license, and earlier that morning, John had handed in a glowing recommendation for him. The Resident was promptly promoted, appointed to a position as a staff physician and now a permanent fixture in the Paddington clinic. Sarah had informed him earlier of the decision, but John let the buoyant man tell him anyway.
“I got it.”
“Oh! Good!” John replied, smiling kindly.
“Thank you. John. Your reference was the clincher. Sarah told me so. I don’t-” Amal blushed, gazing at John with glowing eyes, “-I don’t even know what to say. It was really good of you.”
“It wasn’t anything. Don’t worry about it. I’m sure my letter made no difference, you would have been hired on anyway. You’re a brilliant Doctor, and you deserved the promotion.”
“Let me thank you in some way,” Amal replied sitting down across from him. “Let’s go out. To the Pub. My treat.”
John sighed, “You really don’t have to…”
“No. Consider it a celebration. A party.”
Sarah walked in and put a sandwich in the refrigerator. John grinned. Perfect. Well if it was a ‘party’…
“Sarah, we’re going out to celebrate after work, do you want to join us?” John offered.
Sarah exchanged a strange, cryptic look with Amal. “Well, er. Thank you for asking, but I’ve got... plans,”
She smiled, “But, congratulations, Amal. You definitely deserved it.”
Amal smiled back. A little to gratefully, John mused warily.
…
They sat companionably watching the game, and ordered another round of house tap.
“Oh! I forgot to mention. A few days ago I called into Panjab. They were holding a contest for some tickets to the Bollywood film festival premier at Millbank next week.”
“Oh?” John laughed, “Not the one with the pole dancers I hope.”
“Desi boys? Already saw it,” Amal grinned, “Nah, actually it’s that Turkish detective bloke from that one show. Behzat C. He’s supposed to be some kind of maverick homicide Detective.”
“Oh, God. I have more than my fill of those.”
“Anyway,” Amal rolled his eyes, “So I answered all the questions right, and won two tickets! My first thought was my sister Nisha, but she’s gone out of town for work that weekend. So…you should join me, John!”
Alright. Why not.
“Sure. Sounds good, thanks.”
…
“When should we expect the happy announcement?”
John cringed, “You know Mycroft said the same thing about us, right? And we’re just friends. So why do you imply that this is somehow different?”
Sherlock all but rolled his eyes.
“Please, John. Really,” he sardonically drawled.
“It’s nothing momentous. Just an extra ticket to see some movie next weekend.”
“Date.”
“Not-”
“-Date. With boyfriend.”
“Movie. With friend.”
“Gay.”
“Not gay,” John bit out, utterly frustrated.
Sherlock smirked and leaned back, propping his feet up on John’s lap, “Are you sure?”
“Get your feet off me.”
“Make me.”
John sat up dumping off the offending appendages.
“I hate you.”
“You’ve been saying that with regularity of recent. I’m beginning to believe you less and less.”
John scowled. “It’s. not. a. date.”
“A rendezvous with a paramour.”
“Shut it.”
“Shut what?”
“You’re a complete moron-- I’m going up to my room.”
“For a good sulk, or to plan what you’re going to wear for the grand gala? I suggest the Gant. It’s very sharp on you,” Sherlock leered.
Why did he put up with it? “It’s getting a bit old, Sherlock.”
“You mean your protests?” He barbed, calling out, as John stormed up the steps.
If there could have been a dark, thunderous cloud over his head there would have been.
…
John sauntered over to the front of waiting room with staunch determination, leaned an elbow on the desk and peered kindly down at Diane.
“Hi.”
“Oh. Doctor Watson! Hi!”
“John. I was wondering if you were free tonight.”
“Oh, er…”
“Tomorrow night then?”
“Well Dr. Watson…”
“John. Your friend is still in town then?
She sighed. “Look Dr. Watson-”
“-John.”
“You are really sweet to ask. I mean it’s very nice and I would, under, well… under other circumstances consider going on a date with you but…”
John furrowed his brow. “You’ve a boyfriend then?” he queried with growing frustration, “Then what? Are you opposed to the whole ‘office romance’ bit? I mean it’s fine if you’re not interested-“
“No, it’s not that. Its just well… I know about you and…” Diane cleared her throat with a little ‘ahem’ as Amal walked in, aiming her look in his direction. “I don’t want to stir any trouble between you two.”
“Diane!” John retorted with exasperation, “You’ve really got the wrong idea.”
“What? You two are very cute together, and I know it’s all very ‘hush-hush’,” she leaned over with a conspiring grin, “It’s totally fine by me if you’re… you know…gay.”
“What!” John shouted, then looked around self consciously as patients glanced up at him in consternation. Lowering his voice he hissed, “‘Im not… gay. Wait… is that what everyone’s saying? That I’m gay? Who’s saying that...Harold? I’m not. Really.”
“Look, I know it’s like some kind of secret, so you don’t have to worry, I won’t say anything,” she replied earnestly, in a soothing manner that riled John even further.
Just then, Amal approached, “Hi John, Diane.” He nodded.
“Oh, hi Amal!” Diane chirped.
“I really enjoyed last night, John,” He smiled warmly.
Oh, not at all good. “Er-“ John sputtered. Diane giggled sweetly.
“I was wondering if you wanted to go out for lunch. Some Thai or something,” he propositioned, casually laying a hand on John’s arm.
Flushing, John quickly yanked his arm back, “I’m actually busy.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah. Paperwork. Going to stay in. Get some of it done.”
“Oh, don’t worry John, I can do that for you-“ Diane offered.
“-No. no. I’d rather see to it myself, thank you.”
“Oh, not a problem. I’ve some as well. I can grab us some crisps and subs from the vending machine, and we’ll camp out in your office and do it together.”
Diane all but snickered and John glowered.
“Well, what do you say?”
Sarah strode toward the desk, and laid down some files.
“No,” John bit out impatiently, “I’d rather do it alone.”
“Oh. Fine. That’s…er, fine, no problem,” Amal frowned looking confused and a bit hurt, “I’ll see you later then.”
As he walked away, Sarah cleared her throat, “That wasn’t very kind of you. I thought the two of you were friends.”
“Yeah?” John grimaced, pulling her off to the side, “Well that was until everyone started implying we were some kind of…item.”
Sarah crossed her arms, tapping her foot with irritation, “Honestly, John, since when do care about a little harmless gossip?”
“Since it’s prevented very nice, attractive young women from accepting dates with me, thank you. I’ve been really very patient about it all. Ignoring it. But I’ve had enough of this,” John expostulated, “It’s like everyone here has somehow forgotten that you and I dated last year. That I actually like women.”
“John, we hardly dated, and you haven’t been out with anyone since. Have you? Anything serious? And besides, we didn’t even kiss. Not even when you kipped at my place that one night.”
“Other than the fact that my overbearing flat mate pretty much thwarted all of my attempts to do so… I try to be a gentleman,” John frowned at her speculative look, “Wait. You think I’m gay too. Don’t you.”
“Oh, John, it doesn’t matter what I think-“
“-Jesus!” John exhaled with sheer frustration, eyes rolling heavenward, “What is wrong with all of you!”
“Look, it doesn’t matter-“
“No! You think I’m in the closet or something. Fuck me. This is ridiculous. Clearly out of hand!”
“I don’t think you’re gay.”
“You’re just saying that to pacify me!” He accused sharply.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
“No, John, I’ll believe whatever you want me to believe. It’s all fine. I just think it’s not on that you were so harsh with Amal just now. He really looks up to you,” She admonished.
Alright. He did feel a twinge of guilt at that.
“I’m saying, John, that you’re one of the most kind hearted and open minded individuals I’ve ever had the fortune of getting to know, but right now, you’re acting no better than….Harold, an utter homophobic twit,” She bit out, “I really thought better of you than this. I very much recommend you make it up to him.”
“God,” John sighed, “You’re right. I was an arse, wasn’t I?”
Sarah smiled.
…
Before they headed out for the day, John caught up with Amal.
“Oh, hi, John,” he greeted tentatively, sounding a bit down-trodden. Sarah smiled over at the two with a prodding expression, and John sighed.
“Tonight. Supper? We’ll get that Thai you mentioned,” he offered as way of apology. Amal grinned and accepted, granting him a look of honest regard that bypassed subtlety.
He caught Diane’s broad smile in his direction and from behind her Sarah nodded in approval.
Damn.
Double damn.
…
After supper, they decided to walk back, still engaged in idle chatter about the office, difficult patients and whatnot. Before he realized it, they’d arrived at 221.
“I’m not going to ask if you want me to come up.”
Amal sighed at John’s hesitant expression, “I mean other than having to face your impossible flat mate, I know you’re really new at this. I remember what it was like when I first came out. I was one of those late bloomers, you know. Didn’t actually say anything until I was twenty-four. Mum pretty much had to pry it out of me. Tooth and nail.”
John frowned, “Amal, wait.”
The other man laughed heartily, “Dear Lord, your expression, John!”
“Yeah but-“
“-No, its alright. I know it was a major step for you today. Asking me out in front of the office.”
“Amal, please.” John sighed, trying to formulate a way to explain this tactfully, “I think you may have the wrong impression.”
He paused as Amal narrowed his eyes, “John, you don’t need to defend it. Clearly, I like you too.”
“Right. But Amal, I like you as a friend. You know. As a mate. We’re mates. I felt like a prick earlier for blowing you off for lunch. I didn’t ask you to supper as a date.”
The man sighed, “I get it, John. No worries, no pressure. Like I said, I know you’re new to this, we can take it slow. I don’t want to push you into anything.”
“I really don’t think you’re grasping what I’m trying to-“
“-No! I do!” he sighed, looking somewhat defeated, “I get it John. You just want to be friends. That’s alright by me. It’s fine. We’ll just be friends. You don’t have to say anything else.”
“Oh. Well then. You’re taking this better than I- er…never mind. I’m glad you understand,” Inwardly, John sighed with relief. That went more smoothly than expected.
“I have an idea,” Amal suddenly blurted out, “I have a friend coming into town from back home. An old ex of mine, but he’s a super nice bloke. Maybe we could all get together tomorrow night, you know, as a group of mates going out for some drinks and a night on the town and you could bring Sherlock.”
“Um…”
“You know, Tom’s a mystery writer. Sort of made a name for himself in the genre, I’m sure he’d just love to get a chance to meet him, get to talk to a real Private Detective.”
Ah well. What better way to reaffirm friendship than agree. They parted congenially, and John prepared himself to confront the man inside.
…
“So you’ve set us up on a double date. Considerate of you to ask if I would even be amenable beforehand,” Sherlock bit out.
“It’s not a date.”
“No, it’s not a date. it’s a double date,” Sherlock corrected wryly.
“You owe me, Sherlock,” John retorted, combing the fringe back from his forehead, “For that stunt at Tesco’s. You snagged me into this mess with Amal, and I just had to practically reject him on our door step. And I can’t go without you, because that would be awkward with Amal bringing Tom and all.”
“So I’m being set up.”
“It’s not like that.”
“Go without me. Or back out. I don’t really care what you do but don’t involve me.”
“You involved yourself by starting this all up in the first place,” John scowled, “And I can’t back out, or I’ll just look like some kind of homophobic berk.”
Sherlock grumbled, assenting.
…
Actually, Sherlock was proving to be rather a good sport of it, seemingly not altogether bored for once, and even genuinely enjoying himself, much to John’s unending surprise. He carried on with Tom rather successfully, and the man, in turn, was proving to be quite amiable and intelligent.
Amal pleasantly regaled a few particularly funny stories involving his past with Tom, and John noticed in his periphery Sherlock’s steady gaze on him. John gave him a pointed look and the other man glanced away.
It happened again, later as he and Amal bantered over football. Sherlock mysteriously kept darting strange, indecipherable glances in John’s direction.
Amal seemed to notice and grew contemplative, narrowing his eyes at Sherlock across the table. The detective matched his gaze with a pointed look of his own.
Whatever it was, this peculiar, wordless conversation they were having was baffling to John, and Tom seemed oblivious to all of it. At last, they all agreed it was getting late, and made to part ways.
Tom and Sherlock headed outside with Amal and John trailing behind, when Amal grabbed John suddenly, pulling him aside.
“I had a really good time tonight, John.”
“Yeah, me too,” he replied, a bit apprehensive as Amal encroached upon his personal space, still clutching his arm.
“Tom thinks Sherlock’s quite a swell bloke.”
“Well yeah, I think… that Sherlock had a good time,” John responded hesitantly and the other man smiled, “And uh… so did I.”
“Good. I’m glad to hear you say it,” Amal responded warmly, “Then if you’re free tomorrow night perhaps you’d accompany for a bite after work. My treat since you went to the trouble of dragging the monster out of his lair.”
“Er, yeah, I suppose that’d be fine-“
Amal pressed his lips to his own. Stunned, John stood stock still as the other man wrapped a hand around the back of his neck. For the briefest of moments in his haze of confusion, he just nearly gave in, when he felt a prickling feeling that he was being watched, and with that, John’s mind fell back into focus and he tore himself away, turning to match Sherlock’s piercing gaze.
Under the surface, it seemed triumph warred with acute ire. Very confusing.
Tom grinned at them, as the detective stood by his side in front of a cab. Before John could react, Amal relinquished his grasp and darted away toward the two.
Sherlock narrowed his eyes with a peculiar, hostile mien as he and Amal exchanged glances, and the slighter man looked far too pleased with himself.
John followed suit, too stunned to do anything but mechanically move forward.
Tom and Amal hopped into the cab and bid them goodnight, before shutting the door.
John frowned and wiped a hand across the back of his lips.
What the Hell had just happened?
Sherlock coldly answered his unspoken question, “Seems you’ve been manipulated into yet another date.”
“Fuck.”
“I’ll say.”
“He kissed me.”
“Looks like he took your rejection last night rather half-heartedly.”
“He kissed me,” John repeated. Sherlock rolled his eyes.
“You don’t seem overly traumatized.”
“What?”
“You just nearly kissed him back.”
“What!”
“You tilted your head, John.”
John flushed angrily, “I was a bit shocked, is all. I did not kiss back.”
Sherlock shrugged dismissively.
“Sherlock. You have to get me out of this mess.”
“I don’t have to do anything,” the taller man snapped.
“I don’t think he’s going to believe me unless you tell him that the Tesco’s incident was all a fraud.”
“You forced me to go out on this ridiculous farce tonight, you can’t manipulate me into yet another favour. Hate to remind you but, we’re all squared away.”
“This is not a bit alright, Sherlock. For some reason, I don’t know what you’re doing, but he’s got this wrong impression-“
“-I really doubt its anything I am doing, John.”
“You kept looking at me-”
“-Observing is not the same as looking.”
“Fine, but Amal assumed otherwise and staked his claim. You practically bated him into it.”
“You’re making things up.”
“He’ll persist with this… and I really don’t want to fuck this up. You have to tell him the truth. He won’t believe me and I have to work with him now. He’s permanent.”
“You could press a sexual-harassment suit.”
“Absolutely not!”
“You could find another clinic.”
“No. Sherlock. You have to do this.”
“I don’t have to do anything,” Sherlock repeated with exasperation.
He leveled a look at the other man, noting his desperate expression, and reluctantly softened, “Fine. But this is the last time, and you have to leave my experiments alone. And buy all the groceries. For one month. And get the things I put on the list. All of them.”
…
Part 4: http://sfumatosoup.livejournal.com/9275.html
Fandom: Sherlock BBC
Pairing: Sherlock/John Genre: Angst/Romance/Adventure/Humour
Words: 32,000/?
Disclaimer: I do not own. All Gatiss and Moffat and Doyle. No plan to profit.
Rating: Mature. Nothing too explicit (yet). Lot’s of UST. I do promise eventual porn. For real. It will happen. Warning: LONG!fic, Spoilers for all BBC eps as well as for canon FINA, SIGN and EMPT (eventually). All main characters and even one or two OC’s. Not brit-picked and self-beta’d so if you see errors or things that need to be changed please let me know. Status: WIP (10/15/11- ?)
Summary: Merciless teasing, misunderstandings (understatement.), jealousy, (sexual?)tension, etc. It's complicated. (P.S.: Abuse against watercoolers.)
'...John wanted to just fall back into his grave and hope that the sod would simply be kind enough to follow suit and bury him...'
...
Amal sat down across the resin table, topping off his mug.
John wearily cradled his face in his hands. God, his eyes hurt. He should've tried for a few more hours of sleep.
“Don’t worry. I didn’t say anything, John. I know how it is in the work world. Folks aren’t always so accepting.”
John glanced up at Amal catching his twinkling expression and frowned. “That. Yesterday? I was honestly telling you the truth. Sherlock and I? That’s not going on. He just… he acts. You know? He does it for his own amusement. He gets off on it or something.”
Amal smiled kindly. “As I said, John, don’t worry about it. The two of you aren’t involved. I understand.”
John breathed out a sigh of relief. Amal really was an upstanding bloke.
Thankfully, to John’s relief, they changed the subject and argued for a bit about the recent Leeds United vs. Manchester match, and Amal suggested supper. John agreed.
…
“Getting ready for your date?”
“It’s not a date, Sherlock.”
“You’re wearing your Loughton Merino. It’s a date.”
“Its supper. Mates. Going for supper. Not a date.”
“Oranges and apples.”
“What?”
“Whatever you call them, they’re still fruit.”
John winced.
“It’s a logical assumption that when a homosexual man asks another man he presumes is of according bent out to supper, that he considers it a date.”
“Not. A. Date,” John bit out, pulling on his jacket, “I’m leaving now. Sherlock.”
“Have a good time, John,” Sherlock leered, “On your date. With your date.”
John seethed. It was very much not a date.
…
Amal leaned back in his chair and gazed over his wine glass at his companion, “I’m very glad we’ve become friends, John.”
John felt the familiar flush creep onto his face.
“Oh, yes. Well.”
“You know,” Amal smiled, his teeth bright against his swarthy complexion, “I got out of this…relationship back six months ago, and when I moved here, I was so nervous. You know? Leaving all my mates and my family back in Durham, but you really put me to ease.”
The man gently touched the tips of John’s fingers resting on the table. “You’re really… a good man, John.”
John pressed his lips together, anxiously conscious of the other man’s direct expression, and pulled his hand back into his lap, fingers still tingling from the light touch.
“Yes,” John cleared his throat, “Well, we certainly get on just fine. You’ve er…proven yourself highly at the clinic. I wouldn’t be surprised if you were offered something permanent.”
Amal grinned.
“I’d definitely put in a word for you.”
“That means a lot that you would say so, John. I very much respect your opinion,” he said fondly, “as you know.”
They continued on companionably well into the night.
And John sighed inwardly. Alright, so perhaps the man had a small… crush. It didn’t hurt anyone. And he was sort of flattered if not a bit wary. He hated that Sherlock was probably right about the ‘date’ thing.
…
“So. You’re back late.”
John looked up to find Sherlock fiddling with some peculiar contraption, while the telly flickered silently in the background.
“I take it your date went well.”
John sighed, “Look Sherlock, he’s a good friend. We have a lot in common. He might be a bit…fond. Of me. But it doesn’t mean anything. Doesn’t matter.”
Sherlock shrugged dismissively, and John joined him taking a seat and flipping the telly off from mute.
He made a decision then and there.
…
“Hi Diane,” John greeted as the receptionist came into the break room.
“Hi, Dr. Watson,” She nodded cordially.
“John,” he corrected and cleared his throat, “I was wondering if you wanted to grab a bite later. If you’re free.”
“Oh,” She stopped, looking at John with a small, puzzled frown, “I er. Would love to. But. I’m…I’ve a friend in town. She’d be a bit put out if I abandoned her. You know, she’s sort of not from… around here?”
“Oh. That’s fine. No problem. Another time, then.”
“Yeah,” she responded strangely, and all but bolted out the door as Amal entered.
“She looked like she was in a hurry,” he said with an amused smirk.
“Uh. Yeah,” John frowned.
Damn. Damn. It couldn’t be what he thought. No. Scratch the idea.
Amal heated up water in a mug for some tea.
“So. Guess what,” he prodded excitedly.
John glanced up. Oh right. That. He hid his grin.
Amal had, days before, at last received his license, and earlier that morning, John had handed in a glowing recommendation for him. The Resident was promptly promoted, appointed to a position as a staff physician and now a permanent fixture in the Paddington clinic. Sarah had informed him earlier of the decision, but John let the buoyant man tell him anyway.
“I got it.”
“Oh! Good!” John replied, smiling kindly.
“Thank you. John. Your reference was the clincher. Sarah told me so. I don’t-” Amal blushed, gazing at John with glowing eyes, “-I don’t even know what to say. It was really good of you.”
“It wasn’t anything. Don’t worry about it. I’m sure my letter made no difference, you would have been hired on anyway. You’re a brilliant Doctor, and you deserved the promotion.”
“Let me thank you in some way,” Amal replied sitting down across from him. “Let’s go out. To the Pub. My treat.”
John sighed, “You really don’t have to…”
“No. Consider it a celebration. A party.”
Sarah walked in and put a sandwich in the refrigerator. John grinned. Perfect. Well if it was a ‘party’…
“Sarah, we’re going out to celebrate after work, do you want to join us?” John offered.
Sarah exchanged a strange, cryptic look with Amal. “Well, er. Thank you for asking, but I’ve got... plans,”
She smiled, “But, congratulations, Amal. You definitely deserved it.”
Amal smiled back. A little to gratefully, John mused warily.
…
They sat companionably watching the game, and ordered another round of house tap.
“Oh! I forgot to mention. A few days ago I called into Panjab. They were holding a contest for some tickets to the Bollywood film festival premier at Millbank next week.”
“Oh?” John laughed, “Not the one with the pole dancers I hope.”
“Desi boys? Already saw it,” Amal grinned, “Nah, actually it’s that Turkish detective bloke from that one show. Behzat C. He’s supposed to be some kind of maverick homicide Detective.”
“Oh, God. I have more than my fill of those.”
“Anyway,” Amal rolled his eyes, “So I answered all the questions right, and won two tickets! My first thought was my sister Nisha, but she’s gone out of town for work that weekend. So…you should join me, John!”
Alright. Why not.
“Sure. Sounds good, thanks.”
…
“When should we expect the happy announcement?”
John cringed, “You know Mycroft said the same thing about us, right? And we’re just friends. So why do you imply that this is somehow different?”
Sherlock all but rolled his eyes.
“Please, John. Really,” he sardonically drawled.
“It’s nothing momentous. Just an extra ticket to see some movie next weekend.”
“Date.”
“Not-”
“-Date. With boyfriend.”
“Movie. With friend.”
“Gay.”
“Not gay,” John bit out, utterly frustrated.
Sherlock smirked and leaned back, propping his feet up on John’s lap, “Are you sure?”
“Get your feet off me.”
“Make me.”
John sat up dumping off the offending appendages.
“I hate you.”
“You’ve been saying that with regularity of recent. I’m beginning to believe you less and less.”
John scowled. “It’s. not. a. date.”
“A rendezvous with a paramour.”
“Shut it.”
“Shut what?”
“You’re a complete moron-- I’m going up to my room.”
“For a good sulk, or to plan what you’re going to wear for the grand gala? I suggest the Gant. It’s very sharp on you,” Sherlock leered.
Why did he put up with it? “It’s getting a bit old, Sherlock.”
“You mean your protests?” He barbed, calling out, as John stormed up the steps.
If there could have been a dark, thunderous cloud over his head there would have been.
…
John sauntered over to the front of waiting room with staunch determination, leaned an elbow on the desk and peered kindly down at Diane.
“Hi.”
“Oh. Doctor Watson! Hi!”
“John. I was wondering if you were free tonight.”
“Oh, er…”
“Tomorrow night then?”
“Well Dr. Watson…”
“John. Your friend is still in town then?
She sighed. “Look Dr. Watson-”
“-John.”
“You are really sweet to ask. I mean it’s very nice and I would, under, well… under other circumstances consider going on a date with you but…”
John furrowed his brow. “You’ve a boyfriend then?” he queried with growing frustration, “Then what? Are you opposed to the whole ‘office romance’ bit? I mean it’s fine if you’re not interested-“
“No, it’s not that. Its just well… I know about you and…” Diane cleared her throat with a little ‘ahem’ as Amal walked in, aiming her look in his direction. “I don’t want to stir any trouble between you two.”
“Diane!” John retorted with exasperation, “You’ve really got the wrong idea.”
“What? You two are very cute together, and I know it’s all very ‘hush-hush’,” she leaned over with a conspiring grin, “It’s totally fine by me if you’re… you know…gay.”
“What!” John shouted, then looked around self consciously as patients glanced up at him in consternation. Lowering his voice he hissed, “‘Im not… gay. Wait… is that what everyone’s saying? That I’m gay? Who’s saying that...Harold? I’m not. Really.”
“Look, I know it’s like some kind of secret, so you don’t have to worry, I won’t say anything,” she replied earnestly, in a soothing manner that riled John even further.
Just then, Amal approached, “Hi John, Diane.” He nodded.
“Oh, hi Amal!” Diane chirped.
“I really enjoyed last night, John,” He smiled warmly.
Oh, not at all good. “Er-“ John sputtered. Diane giggled sweetly.
“I was wondering if you wanted to go out for lunch. Some Thai or something,” he propositioned, casually laying a hand on John’s arm.
Flushing, John quickly yanked his arm back, “I’m actually busy.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah. Paperwork. Going to stay in. Get some of it done.”
“Oh, don’t worry John, I can do that for you-“ Diane offered.
“-No. no. I’d rather see to it myself, thank you.”
“Oh, not a problem. I’ve some as well. I can grab us some crisps and subs from the vending machine, and we’ll camp out in your office and do it together.”
Diane all but snickered and John glowered.
“Well, what do you say?”
Sarah strode toward the desk, and laid down some files.
“No,” John bit out impatiently, “I’d rather do it alone.”
“Oh. Fine. That’s…er, fine, no problem,” Amal frowned looking confused and a bit hurt, “I’ll see you later then.”
As he walked away, Sarah cleared her throat, “That wasn’t very kind of you. I thought the two of you were friends.”
“Yeah?” John grimaced, pulling her off to the side, “Well that was until everyone started implying we were some kind of…item.”
Sarah crossed her arms, tapping her foot with irritation, “Honestly, John, since when do care about a little harmless gossip?”
“Since it’s prevented very nice, attractive young women from accepting dates with me, thank you. I’ve been really very patient about it all. Ignoring it. But I’ve had enough of this,” John expostulated, “It’s like everyone here has somehow forgotten that you and I dated last year. That I actually like women.”
“John, we hardly dated, and you haven’t been out with anyone since. Have you? Anything serious? And besides, we didn’t even kiss. Not even when you kipped at my place that one night.”
“Other than the fact that my overbearing flat mate pretty much thwarted all of my attempts to do so… I try to be a gentleman,” John frowned at her speculative look, “Wait. You think I’m gay too. Don’t you.”
“Oh, John, it doesn’t matter what I think-“
“-Jesus!” John exhaled with sheer frustration, eyes rolling heavenward, “What is wrong with all of you!”
“Look, it doesn’t matter-“
“No! You think I’m in the closet or something. Fuck me. This is ridiculous. Clearly out of hand!”
“I don’t think you’re gay.”
“You’re just saying that to pacify me!” He accused sharply.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
“No, John, I’ll believe whatever you want me to believe. It’s all fine. I just think it’s not on that you were so harsh with Amal just now. He really looks up to you,” She admonished.
Alright. He did feel a twinge of guilt at that.
“I’m saying, John, that you’re one of the most kind hearted and open minded individuals I’ve ever had the fortune of getting to know, but right now, you’re acting no better than….Harold, an utter homophobic twit,” She bit out, “I really thought better of you than this. I very much recommend you make it up to him.”
“God,” John sighed, “You’re right. I was an arse, wasn’t I?”
Sarah smiled.
…
Before they headed out for the day, John caught up with Amal.
“Oh, hi, John,” he greeted tentatively, sounding a bit down-trodden. Sarah smiled over at the two with a prodding expression, and John sighed.
“Tonight. Supper? We’ll get that Thai you mentioned,” he offered as way of apology. Amal grinned and accepted, granting him a look of honest regard that bypassed subtlety.
He caught Diane’s broad smile in his direction and from behind her Sarah nodded in approval.
Damn.
Double damn.
…
After supper, they decided to walk back, still engaged in idle chatter about the office, difficult patients and whatnot. Before he realized it, they’d arrived at 221.
“I’m not going to ask if you want me to come up.”
Amal sighed at John’s hesitant expression, “I mean other than having to face your impossible flat mate, I know you’re really new at this. I remember what it was like when I first came out. I was one of those late bloomers, you know. Didn’t actually say anything until I was twenty-four. Mum pretty much had to pry it out of me. Tooth and nail.”
John frowned, “Amal, wait.”
The other man laughed heartily, “Dear Lord, your expression, John!”
“Yeah but-“
“-No, its alright. I know it was a major step for you today. Asking me out in front of the office.”
“Amal, please.” John sighed, trying to formulate a way to explain this tactfully, “I think you may have the wrong impression.”
He paused as Amal narrowed his eyes, “John, you don’t need to defend it. Clearly, I like you too.”
“Right. But Amal, I like you as a friend. You know. As a mate. We’re mates. I felt like a prick earlier for blowing you off for lunch. I didn’t ask you to supper as a date.”
The man sighed, “I get it, John. No worries, no pressure. Like I said, I know you’re new to this, we can take it slow. I don’t want to push you into anything.”
“I really don’t think you’re grasping what I’m trying to-“
“-No! I do!” he sighed, looking somewhat defeated, “I get it John. You just want to be friends. That’s alright by me. It’s fine. We’ll just be friends. You don’t have to say anything else.”
“Oh. Well then. You’re taking this better than I- er…never mind. I’m glad you understand,” Inwardly, John sighed with relief. That went more smoothly than expected.
“I have an idea,” Amal suddenly blurted out, “I have a friend coming into town from back home. An old ex of mine, but he’s a super nice bloke. Maybe we could all get together tomorrow night, you know, as a group of mates going out for some drinks and a night on the town and you could bring Sherlock.”
“Um…”
“You know, Tom’s a mystery writer. Sort of made a name for himself in the genre, I’m sure he’d just love to get a chance to meet him, get to talk to a real Private Detective.”
Ah well. What better way to reaffirm friendship than agree. They parted congenially, and John prepared himself to confront the man inside.
…
“So you’ve set us up on a double date. Considerate of you to ask if I would even be amenable beforehand,” Sherlock bit out.
“It’s not a date.”
“No, it’s not a date. it’s a double date,” Sherlock corrected wryly.
“You owe me, Sherlock,” John retorted, combing the fringe back from his forehead, “For that stunt at Tesco’s. You snagged me into this mess with Amal, and I just had to practically reject him on our door step. And I can’t go without you, because that would be awkward with Amal bringing Tom and all.”
“So I’m being set up.”
“It’s not like that.”
“Go without me. Or back out. I don’t really care what you do but don’t involve me.”
“You involved yourself by starting this all up in the first place,” John scowled, “And I can’t back out, or I’ll just look like some kind of homophobic berk.”
Sherlock grumbled, assenting.
…
Actually, Sherlock was proving to be rather a good sport of it, seemingly not altogether bored for once, and even genuinely enjoying himself, much to John’s unending surprise. He carried on with Tom rather successfully, and the man, in turn, was proving to be quite amiable and intelligent.
Amal pleasantly regaled a few particularly funny stories involving his past with Tom, and John noticed in his periphery Sherlock’s steady gaze on him. John gave him a pointed look and the other man glanced away.
It happened again, later as he and Amal bantered over football. Sherlock mysteriously kept darting strange, indecipherable glances in John’s direction.
Amal seemed to notice and grew contemplative, narrowing his eyes at Sherlock across the table. The detective matched his gaze with a pointed look of his own.
Whatever it was, this peculiar, wordless conversation they were having was baffling to John, and Tom seemed oblivious to all of it. At last, they all agreed it was getting late, and made to part ways.
Tom and Sherlock headed outside with Amal and John trailing behind, when Amal grabbed John suddenly, pulling him aside.
“I had a really good time tonight, John.”
“Yeah, me too,” he replied, a bit apprehensive as Amal encroached upon his personal space, still clutching his arm.
“Tom thinks Sherlock’s quite a swell bloke.”
“Well yeah, I think… that Sherlock had a good time,” John responded hesitantly and the other man smiled, “And uh… so did I.”
“Good. I’m glad to hear you say it,” Amal responded warmly, “Then if you’re free tomorrow night perhaps you’d accompany for a bite after work. My treat since you went to the trouble of dragging the monster out of his lair.”
“Er, yeah, I suppose that’d be fine-“
Amal pressed his lips to his own. Stunned, John stood stock still as the other man wrapped a hand around the back of his neck. For the briefest of moments in his haze of confusion, he just nearly gave in, when he felt a prickling feeling that he was being watched, and with that, John’s mind fell back into focus and he tore himself away, turning to match Sherlock’s piercing gaze.
Under the surface, it seemed triumph warred with acute ire. Very confusing.
Tom grinned at them, as the detective stood by his side in front of a cab. Before John could react, Amal relinquished his grasp and darted away toward the two.
Sherlock narrowed his eyes with a peculiar, hostile mien as he and Amal exchanged glances, and the slighter man looked far too pleased with himself.
John followed suit, too stunned to do anything but mechanically move forward.
Tom and Amal hopped into the cab and bid them goodnight, before shutting the door.
John frowned and wiped a hand across the back of his lips.
What the Hell had just happened?
Sherlock coldly answered his unspoken question, “Seems you’ve been manipulated into yet another date.”
“Fuck.”
“I’ll say.”
“He kissed me.”
“Looks like he took your rejection last night rather half-heartedly.”
“He kissed me,” John repeated. Sherlock rolled his eyes.
“You don’t seem overly traumatized.”
“What?”
“You just nearly kissed him back.”
“What!”
“You tilted your head, John.”
John flushed angrily, “I was a bit shocked, is all. I did not kiss back.”
Sherlock shrugged dismissively.
“Sherlock. You have to get me out of this mess.”
“I don’t have to do anything,” the taller man snapped.
“I don’t think he’s going to believe me unless you tell him that the Tesco’s incident was all a fraud.”
“You forced me to go out on this ridiculous farce tonight, you can’t manipulate me into yet another favour. Hate to remind you but, we’re all squared away.”
“This is not a bit alright, Sherlock. For some reason, I don’t know what you’re doing, but he’s got this wrong impression-“
“-I really doubt its anything I am doing, John.”
“You kept looking at me-”
“-Observing is not the same as looking.”
“Fine, but Amal assumed otherwise and staked his claim. You practically bated him into it.”
“You’re making things up.”
“He’ll persist with this… and I really don’t want to fuck this up. You have to tell him the truth. He won’t believe me and I have to work with him now. He’s permanent.”
“You could press a sexual-harassment suit.”
“Absolutely not!”
“You could find another clinic.”
“No. Sherlock. You have to do this.”
“I don’t have to do anything,” Sherlock repeated with exasperation.
He leveled a look at the other man, noting his desperate expression, and reluctantly softened, “Fine. But this is the last time, and you have to leave my experiments alone. And buy all the groceries. For one month. And get the things I put on the list. All of them.”
…
Part 4: http://sfumatosoup.livejournal.com/9275.html