The One Next Door

A Pudgy Attack Dog

    When the crowd died down a little bit, Sherlock was faintly able to get some well-deserved free time, tapping his fingers against the counter and casting guilty glances over to where John sat, hard at work with whatever he was doing on his computer. It wasn't like Sherlock was interested in seeing what he was doing, or even wanted to look at him for that matter, John just happen to be the only person in the room that Sherlock knew by name, and therefore he was slightly more entertaining the rest of the lot.
"Do you want to try to make some of the coffees now that the crowd's died down?" Molly offered, leaning up against the counter and looking around the costumers as well.
"I suppose so." Sherlock agreed.
"What you looking at?" Molly asked with amusement.
"Nothing really." Sherlock sighed.
"I saw you talking to that guy again, didn't seem as bad as the first encounter." Molly guessed.
"He came to apologize, said he was just stressed out." Sherlock shrugged.
"Do you forgive him?" Molly asked.
"God no, that little jerk is exactly that, a jerk." Sherlock insisted.
"Then why do I keep seeing you glance over at him?" Molly asked, jabbing Sherlock in the side and walked off to grab someone's order.
"What are you accusing me of?" Sherlock asked, tailgating her as she tried grabbed an order from Carl.
"Oh, nothing. Now, do you want to make this drink?" she asked. Sherlock nodded, taking the cup suspiciously and squinting his eyes, as if trying to tell what Molly's little smile meant. So Sherlock made the drink the best he could, stirring the coffee with all the ingredients the people wanted in it, adding whipped cream and chocolate syrup and putting little tops on the drinks.
"Perfect." Molly decided as he snapped a lid on top of a small coffee. Sherlock smiled proudly, handing the coffee to a girl who seemed more interested in him than the coffee, but walked off without a word. John still sat at the booth, now he had ear buds in and was seemingly watching something on Netflix.
"There you go again." Molly pointed out.
"Shut up Molly, I'm just curious what he's up to, that's all." Sherlock insisted.
"Oh yes, I'm sure whatever he's doing it's very interesting. It's definitely what he's doing, not the sunlight in his hair, or the way his eyebrow scrunches when he concentrates?" Molly asked.
"Sounds like you're checking him out more than you're accusing me of." Sherlock insisted.
"I'm simply observing." Molly assured.
"Why don't you go talk to him then, if his hair is so pretty?" Sherlock asked.
"Because I don't have any interest in him, I'm saying you might though." Molly insisted.
"I don't." Sherlock insisted.
"Come on Sherlock, you need to find someone, even if they are a jerk from the coffee shop. You need some practice, because obviously, for as much flirting as you do, you don't get very far." Molly insisted.
"Ooh, relationship problems?" Sarah asked, swooping in hopefully.
"Quite the opposite." Sherlock admitted.
"Well, if you're ever in need of a date, my friend, she's a loner too, pretty, but shy." Sarah shrugged.
"Oh, um, Sherlock's, he's not really one for blind dates." Molly insisted quickly, casting a sideways glance at Sherlock, as if to make sure he didn't say anything stupid.
"Ya, not really my thing." Sherlock agreed. Sarah nodded, not looking convinced at all, but obviously too polite to ask any questions.
"Well, if you're interested let me know, I can give you a picture or something." Sarah shrugged.
"That's pretty creepy." Sherlock decided.
"Yes, I suppose it is." Sarah agreed with a sigh. The rest of the day went slowly, about a half an hour before Sherlock left, John got up, packed his laptop away, and gave a friendly smile in farewell before walking out the door and onto the sidewalk. Molly saw Sherlock watching as he left, and of course kicking him in the leg before he tore his eyes away, growling an excuse, much to Sarah's confusion. Finally their replacements came in, a bunch of more awake looking people hanging their coats on the racks and taking aprons from the counter.
"Well, I guess I'll see you all tomorrow." Molly decided.
"I hope not." Sherlock muttered, kind of done anymore.
"You know, I've got two cousins, and Josh is single too." Sarah muttered before winking and walking out the door. Sherlock shrugged, and Molly just hit him in the arm again, the two of them walking down the road to the apartment once more.
"Well, there goes my 'cover'." Sherlock laughed, pulling on his jacket against the chilly fall air.
"You're being too obvious." Molly decided.
"It's not me that's being obvious, it's you! Interrogating me behind the counter like that, you might as well scream it out to everyone." Sherlock defended.
"Oh come on, you cannot tell me you don't find him attractive you had your googly eyes on and everything." Molly insisted.
"Just because I'm gay doesn't mean I have a crush on every man that happens to walk into that shop." Sherlock insisted.
"Only half?" Molly asked.
"Ya, maybe." Sherlock agreed with a laugh. "But that John guy is definitely not one of them." They walked up into their apartment building, old, dry, and dull, and tried to keep their voices down as much as possible. Mrs. Turner upstairs always complained about the echoing properties of the stairwell, and complaining to Moran multiple times about how loud Sherlock was when he was walking back to his apartment. Well, then again, she did have some sort of grudge against him, he had no idea why.
"So, I guess I'll see you later?" Molly asked.
"I guess so. I'll poke around in my cabinets; see if I have anything for lunch. If not, you'll see me much sooner." Sherlock decided.
"Oh, I just can't wait until we are united." Molly mumbled, starting to unlock her apartment door when something large and fluffy attacked Sherlock from the stairs, leaping onto his chest and bringing the poor man down. The thing was licking Sherlock to death, probably an over excited dog or a really, really creepy midget.
"Dudley, get back here!" screamed a worried voice, and Sherlock could only hear someone running down the stairs and grabbing the dog by its collar. Sherlock groaned, wiping the dog spit from his eyes and getting clumsily to his feet.
"Why don't you take better care of your..." he stopped mid-sentence, staring into the eyes of his savior. Staring into the eyes of John, from the coffee shop.
"Wait a second, did you follow me home?" Sherlock asked, taking a large, cautious step back, as if John was about to kill him or something.
"What, no, I live here, I just moved in!" John defended, picking up the large bulldog and cradling it in his arms.
"You moved in? Out of all people, it had to be you?" Sherlock asked.
"Anything wrong with that?" John asked.
"There's nothing wrong with that, we're delighted to have a new neighbor. Aren't we Sherlock?" Molly asked.
"Oh, absolutely." Sherlock agreed.
"Well, I'm Molly Hooper; I work at the coffee shop too." Molly said.
"Oh, hello, I'm John Watson. I would shake, but..." John looked down at the dog guiltily.
"Sherlock Holmes." Sherlock muttered, brushing off his jacket from all excess dog hair and straightening his back to bring himself to his tallest height. The more John had to look up at him, the more intimidating he would come across.
"This is Dudley, my bulldog." John said happily, pulling a paw from the mass of fat and fur and making it shake its little arm at them, as if a doggy wave.
"He's adorable! I have a cat, Helen; she's in my apartment though." Molly agreed.
"Oh, I'll keep that in mind. Dudley's not terribly good with other pets." John shrugged.
"That's fine, Helen deserves a slow, painful death." Sherlock insisted.
"Sherlock!" Molly insisted.
"What, it's true!" Sherlock protested.
"Sherlock's just a little bit grumpy, but if you need any help unpacking or anything, we're always here." Molly offered.
"Oh, nah, I don't have much, but thanks for the offer. I'm sure we'll see each other around." John agreed.
"I'm sure we will. I'm sorry to leave, but I have to go feed Helen, I can almost hear her little kitty stomach growling." Molly insisted with a guilty tone, but Sherlock knew she had to be lying. She only fed that cat in the morning and at night, and it was in the middle of the day, so obviously she was doing her best to get John and Sherlock some alone time. So, with a final wave, she unlocked her apartment door and walked into her apartment.
"Sorry for the dog attack, he doesn't usually bother anyone." John shrugged.
"Do you have a leash for that thing?" Sherlock snapped.
"Of course I do, I just opened the door and he scampered out." John shrugged.
"A likely excuse." Sherlock decided, starting up the stairs to his apartment and hoping John would follow.
"Are you still mad at me?" John asked.
"For the coffee of the dog?" Sherlock asked.
"Both?" John asked.
"Moderately." Sherlock decided.
"Well, I'm sorry about that. As you know, moving takes a toll on, well, I hadn't gotten sleep that night and the trucks were late and then I was late and, evidently, my coffee was cold." John sighed.
"I'm sorry to hear that, let me play you a song on the world's smallest violin." Sherlock decided.
"You are grumpy today, aren't you?" John asked.
"Definitely not." Sherlock decided. He climbed the last set of stairs, expecting John to have turned off into some other hallway, or opened a door, but he kept following him. Sherlock sighed, hoping he was next to Mrs. Turner or something, and not too terribly close to Sherlock's door.
"Are you following me or something?" Sherlock snapped.
"No, I live up here." John insisted.
"So do I." Sherlock agreed with a sigh, finally making it to the end of the hallway and turning to look at the door which John was unlocking. The one directly across from Sherlock's door.
"You've got to be kidding me." he grumbled, but didn't do anything too violent.
"I guess we're neighbors then." John said with a little laugh.
"Yes, I suppose we are." Sherlock agreed, unlocking his door and slamming it in John's face without a goodbye. Sherlock sighed, staring at his wreck of a flat and the huge lump of clay that sat in the middle of it. At the moment, Sherlock strangely related to that clay, large, useless, and not sure what he was going to be molded into. Sherlock didn't know what to think now that he and John were only two doors away; it would screw up his entire life! Such a jerk, living across from him, with that Hellish dog, Hell Spawn the Sequel. That's a good name for it. Sherlock could only imagine, John would criticize him for everything, he'd nose his way into all of Sherlock's personal business, he'd have girlfriends going up and down the hallways in loud high heels, or he'll have his family over for dinner and they'll bring their screaming toddler, it would be terrible! Sherlock usually liked to eat when he was upset, gorge himself with whatever he could find, but at the moment he was too poor to buy any food and too lazy to look for any, so he just rolled into a ball on the couch and stared out the dusty window. What would Molly say? Surely she still thinks Sherlock likes him, but that's absurd, Sherlock would never like such a mean person, it's as if she thought he fell in love with any man that looked slightly attractive. Well, she was wrong, they have to at least be halfway attractive, so take that Molly. As he was wallowing in feelings, thoughts, and self-loathing, Sherlock heard a knock on the door. Surely it was John, asking his lovely neighbor for a cup of sugar or something stupid like that. John seemed like the type to bake without first making sure had the necessary ingredients. So Sherlock lumbered over to the door, ready to explode with loathing and hurtful comments, but instead, when he opened the door, Molly was there.