The One Next Door

The Tin Man Had the Right Idea

"What in the world did you say to him?" Molly asked with a laugh as they scuttled down the road.
"Well, I asked him if he wanted to 'ketchup' sometime over dinner. He ran away." Sherlock admitted.
"I think pickup lines like that only work on drunk people." Molly guessed.
"Are you saying I should've slipped a few shots in his diet coke?" Sherlock asked.
"I'm saying keep it nice and simple, don't try stupid stuff like that." Molly insisted.
"I was going to go with 'mayo give me your number' but I could see the confusion there." Sherlock assured.
"That's even worse." Molly decided.
"What do you think I should ask?" Sherlock asked.
"I don't know, honestly I have no idea what goes on in gay man's head." Molly admitted.
"Well, neither do I." Sherlock agreed.
"All of this time you've spent trying to get a boyfriend, not one?" she asked.
"Well, one time, in college, but that doesn't count, because I think he was really high, and, well, I'm not going into details." Sherlock decided.
"I don't want to know." Molly admitted.
"It was really funny actually, because I got beat up by both him and his girlfriend." Sherlock laughed.
"You're hopeless Sherlock, honestly." Molly laughed.
"So are you." Sherlock insisted.
"On the contrary, I've actually had boyfriends." Molly pointed out.
"Seems the only guy you can really keep is me." Sherlock sighed.
"I can't keep a guy because you keep pushing them away." She insisted.
"Not really." Sherlock muttered.
"You growled at the one!" Molly defended.
"See, you can't even remember his name, means you never liked him, which means I was doing you a favor." Sherlock insisted.
"You most certainly were not doing me a favor Sherlock, he was nice." Molly insisted.
"Still don't remember his name though." Sherlock pointed out.
"It'll come to me eventually." Molly insisted. Sherlock rolled his eyes, almost walking straight into a big truck parked in front of the building.
"Ooh, looks like someone's moving in." Molly guessed. Sherlock groaned, looking back to see that the annoying truck that had been in his way was actually a moving truck.
"I guess so." he agreed. "I hope they're nice."
"Well, just another someone for Moran to bully." Molly sighed.
"Don't say that too loud, didn't we decide he's got us bugged, in case we say anything bad?" Sherlock asked.
"He heard you call him an old shriveled yam because you were on the phone with him!" Molly insisted.
"No, I pressed end, I'm certain I did!" Sherlock pointed out, but Molly was already up the stairs before Sherlock could prove his point. They wasted away the rest of the day, moving from Molly's couch, to Sherlock's couch, back to Molly's couch, and then somehow Sherlock ended up on the floor, staring up at the ceiling and talking aimlessly. These were the times that Sherlock really liked, when they got so into the conversations they were having that it doesn't really matter. Molly could say the she likes peanut butter or she could say that she's killed a man, and Sherlock would probably have the same dull reaction. Sherlock didn't really have any deep secrets, and even if he did, Molly knew all of them. She knew his entire life story, his past, his present; she probably even knows some of his future. So they just rambled on about pointless things, like the coffee shop, Sherlock's latest art projects, crushes that they both knew could never work out, who might be moving in and where. Nothing major really. So when finally Sherlock retreated to his own apartment to go to bed, he felt like he knew just a little bit more about Molly, and now she knew a little bit more about him. He set his alarm clock to six o'clock, just so that he wasn't late to wake up again, and collapsed in his bed, staring up at the dark ceiling with a sigh. He felt like of excited, actually, to go back to the coffee shop. He couldn't possibly figure out why, it wasn't like the job was fun or the people pleasant, but maybe he just felt good doing something productive, where he'd get paid and then could finally buy his own lunch meat. As long as Joan doesn't show up again, he'll be fine. And if he does, Sherlock will punch his lights out.              

           At six o'clock the alarm rang, and Sherlock sprang out of bed like he had the morning previous, only to realize that he wasn't actually late. So he pulled on his clothes the best he could, sticking to more formal wear for now, did his hair, brushed his teeth, tried his best to look awake, and pulled on his trench coat. He decided that he'll take advantage of his earliness to annoy Molly the best he could. So, at six eighteen, Sherlock knocked steadily on her door until finally she opened it.
"Wow, you're early!" she exclaimed happily. She was eating a bowl of cereal, seeming to be in the process of getting dressed.
"I like to mix it up a little bit." Sherlock shrugged.
"Well, come on in, do you want some cereal?" she asked.
"Not really, I'm going to see how much free stuff I can get away with at the shop." Sherlock shrugged.
"They offer some free stuff, but I always feel bad." Molly admitted.
"That's because you're too annoyingly pure. Rip your own heart out, it's much more practical." Sherlock insisted.
"Surprisingly, some of us need our hearts, for things like pumping blood, conscience,and most importantly, love." Molly insisted.
"I don't need any of those things, that's why my heart is in a little box under my bed." Sherlock pointed out.
"Well, good for you." Molly decided, going over to the table and sitting in a chair, where her glass of orange juice already sat.
"You know, I was going to pour cold water on you this morning, just as an extra incentive to get up on time." Molly pointed out.
"I set my alarm clock." Sherlock pointed out.
"Why didn't you do that yesterday?" Molly asked.
"I don't know, I just didn't." Sherlock shrugged.
"You amaze me Sherlock, your lack of good judgment..." Molly sighed. Hell Spawn jumped onto the table with a little meow, trying to stick his nose into Molly's cereal bowl and drink the milk or something.
"Come here kitty." Sherlock decided, holding out his hand for the cat to sniff. Instead, Hell Spawn just hissed, swatting a clawed paw at him and went back to snuggling against Molly's breakfast.
"That thing hates me." Sherlock decided.
"Well, you hate it back. Helen's just being territorial." Molly insisted.
"I still hate that name." Sherlock decided.
"It's better than Hell Spawn, as you so politely put it." Molly snapped.
"It fits the thing better." Sherlock assured.
"No it doesn't." Molly insisted, finishing up her cereal and leaving the empty bowl on the counter for the cat to clean up.
"Let me just put some makeup on, and then I'll be ready to go." She decided.
"Sounds good." Sherlock agreed, sitting on the table and watching the cat scrape its prickly little tongue all around the bowl. Honestly, Sherlock had no idea how Molly considered that sanitary conditions, and he didn't know why she bothered to try to keep that ugly cat alive. He waited at the counter while Molly did her hair and makeup and other last minute precautions for the females.
"Get away from there." Sherlock insisted, swatting the bowl away from the cat, who hissed again.
"What are you doing to Helen?" Molly yelled, as if Sherlock was throwing the ugly thing down the garbage disposal.
"Nothing Molly, just keep doing, whatever you're doing." Sherlock assured, giving the cat a death glare. So, as Hell Spawn just walked a couple of steps to reach the bowl, Sherlock grabbed a box of Lucky Charms from Molly's cereal cabinet, pocking out all the multicolored marshmallows and leaving the boring cereal for Molly to eat later.
"What are you doing in there?" Sherlock groaned, poking around and picking out the last swirly diamond before putting the cereal back on the counter. Even Hell Spawn was done with her cereal.
"Five more minutes!" Molly insisted.
"And you said I was late!" Sherlock protested.
"Well, you're early now; it's only six twenty three!" Molly yelled back.Sherlock groaned, sitting on the table and staring out the window. It wasn't very scenic, just a rough brick wall that belonged to the building next to them, but it was more interesting then listening to Molly hum while she braided her hair. Finally, in seven minutes, Molly was finally done; grabbing her coat and rushing out the door, Sherlock close on her heals. When they got to the coffee shop they found the usual workers mingling behind the counter. Sarah and Carl were having a small conversation while Jeanette restocked the cups.
"So, you want to keep handing out the coffees?" Jeanette asked as Sherlock approached the counter.
"I might as well, I don't know my way around the kitchen yet." he shrugged, tying an apron around his neck and following Molly behind the counter.
"So, enjoying the job so far?" Carl asked, trying to make conversation supposedly.
"It's fine, gets money I guess." Sherlock shrugged, but turned his back and pretended to be concentrated on watching what little costumers they had mingling around the shop.
"Well, it's coming on seven, everyone get ready, they'll be coming any moment."Jeanette warned, going back into her office for some important paper work or something.
"Like heard of stampeding wildebeest." Sarah sighed.
"Tired and grumpy wildebeests." Molly agreed, and Sarah just nodded. Finally the people started to stream steadily in, and Sherlock recognized some of them from the previous day. Some of them smiled at him, others said a polite thank you, and others just grabbed their coffees without a second look to the saint who was handing them out. Honestly, he should get some sort of thanks, he was giving up his valuable time to hand these bloody people their coffee, the least they could do was look thankful. But of course, Molly had said that it was impolite to publicly call out people on their rudeness, or their faults, or be mean to costumers, so he kept his mouth shut, if not throwing dirty looks to the ones who didn't even bother looking up at him. He thought he was doing pretty well, actually, when his good natured silence was threatened by the arrival of John, the one who was whining about his coffee. The moment he walked in, Sherlock cast a warning glance at Molly, who just smiled encouragingly, as if Sherlock should work on his social skills a little bit more. But this time, John didn't look as grumpy. There wasn't a deep scowl on his face, and instead of looking hurried and stressed, he calmly read the menu board, carrying a laptop bag as if he were planning on staying. Sherlock kept handing out coffees, but kept his eyes on John, in case the laptop case actually held some sort of scythe which he was going to decapitate him with. When he placed his order, he walked right up to the counter, where Sherlock looked suspiciously down on him. But, to his surprise, John smiled apologetically up at him, as if trying to make a good name for himself.
"Hey, I just wanted to say that I'm sorry for being such a jerk yesterday, I was all stressed out and in a rush, and I'm sorry for being so mean." He admitted.
"Are you expecting a free coffee because your heart thawed?" Sherlock asked, his face not softening.
"Well, no, but I thought that maybe the guy who hands out the coffee won't hate me that much?" John offered. Sherlock forced a small smile, but had to hand out another coffee, so he didn't have to wait around while awkwardly thinking of something to say.
"Well, I guess I'll have to tell Molly not to put that dead mouse in your coffee." He decided.
"What?" John asked, looking disgusted.
"I'm kidding, chill out." Sherlock assured, and John laughed a little bit, looking genuinely relieved. Sherlock had to admit, he was kind of cute when he laughed, but this still didn't make up for him being so rude the day previous. A coffee was set on the counter, and Sherlock saw John's name scrawled along the cup.
"You know anyone named Joan?" he asked, holding up the cup.
"Oh don't even try it." John insisted, grabbing the cup before Sherlock could play anymore keep away games. "Thanks for the coffee." He decided, and with that he walked over to a booth and sat down, propping open a laptop and going to work on whatever he was doing.