It Could be You

Chapter 1

Sherlock entered Speedy's Deli and immediately scanned the small café out of habit. He took in the quaint wooden chairs, the signs on the walls displaying today's specials and the counter near the door filled with sandwiches, cakes, energy drinks and his favorite blueberry muffins. He was the only customer. The woman who usually worked behind the counter, Jenny or Jinny he couldn't be bothered to remember, did not putter behind the counter this morning. Instead, a fair-haired, young man in his late twenties greeted him with a smile.

"Good morning," the man said cheerily, and Sherlock was about to respond as he always did with a noncommittal grunt but did something very uncharacteristic instead. He said "Good morning," back to the fellow.

"What'll you have?" the young man asked, and Sherlock noted his urban London accent, clean cut hair, white, even teeth and tanned skin without even realizing it.

"Coffee, black, two sugars," he muttered and took another look at the barista in front of him. He noted the name badge that said "Carter" on it and let his eyes skitter over the fellow's broad shoulders, well-defined arms, and a tight abdomen. The man certainly kept fit, possibly a stint in the military but more likely something closer to home like police or firefighter. He didn't have the military mannerisms most soldiers had.

"Right-O," he responded giving Sherlock a cheeky wink. "Can I interest you in anything else?"

Sherlock blushed and wondered if he'd been caught looking. "Uh," he uttered and wondered at his inability to articulate a simple breakfast order. "Blueberry muffin," he said. He hadn't intended on ordering one, but he'd just been thinking about how good they smelled that morning. Eating was usually such a chore, but the words just slipped out.

Carter smiled again, "Baked fresh this morning. I've already had one," he said and pulled out tongs and a plate. "For here I assume?" he asked.

Sherlock rarely ever sat at the tables. Unless he was with John, he always took his coffee in a paper cup to go. Again to his astonishment, he heard himself say, "Yes." Today he felt like lingering over his coffee, eating a delicious blueberry muffin and getting a better look at ...

"Here you are Mr. Holmes," Carter said handing him a ceramic cup and saucer full of coffee.

"If you find a table, I'll bring this over to so you don't have to carry both," he said, and Sherlock made his way over to a table opposite the counter. Carter followed with his muffin and placed it on the table next to Sherlock's coffee.

"Thank you, Carter," he said liking the surprised look in the man's eyes when he used his name. "You know my name; It's only fair that I know yours as well."

Carter laughed then and said, "Jenny pointed you out to me yesterday when you walked by with Dr. Watson. You're both local celebrities round here."

"Firefighter or Policeman?" Sherlock asked.

Carter looked surprised for only a moment then smiled at the question, "Volunteer firefighter for now. But, I hope to get a place in a station as soon as I finish my training. I do this to help pay the bills," he said waving a hand around the café. "I spend a lot of free time studying and training."

As he lifted his arm to gesture, Sherlock couldn't help but notice the rippling muscle under Carter's polo shirt. A wave of lust hit him at the sight, and it startled him. The man was almost ten years younger than he was, a mere boy. Besides, John would tell him he was a fool for even hoping a man as attractive as Carter would ever think of him in that way. Not that John's attempts at dating had been overly successful lately. But, Sherlock's powers of observation aside, he had a sense there was a mutual attraction.

"You figured that out just by looking at me?" Carter asked with open admiration in his face. "They said you could do that." So far only John Watson had ever produced that satisfied glow in his chest when he performed his deductions. Interesting.

Sherlock nodded and picked up his cup and took a sip. Perfect "Mmmm," he said. "You know how to make a good cuppa," Sherlock said and thought furiously, I'm complimenting him, and making ridiculous small talk. I never do that.

The door opened, and two more customers came in. "I'll leave you to it then, Mr. Holmes."

"Call me Sherlock, please," Sherlock said and winced inwardly. Good god, he sounded like a schoolboy with a crush.

"Okay, Sherlock," Carter said and left to tend the new customers.

Sherlock watched him go pinching off bites of the muffin and absently putting them in his mouth. Carter genially greeted the two women the same way he'd greeted Sherlock earlier, and he felt a pang of jealousy run through him at the sight. So, maybe he treated everyone in such a fashion. But, as he handed over the two sandwiches and drinks to the women, he turned his head and caught Sherlock watching him. He winked and Sherlock nearly dropped his coffee cup. He ducked his head and took a big gulp to hide the flush he knew had spread over his cheeks and took too much in at once. The liquid burned its way down his gullet too warm, and he had to sit still and wonder if he'd done himself permanent damage. When the fiery pain finally subsided, he looked up to find Carter's concerned face hovering over him.

"You alright, Mate?" he asked placing a hand casually on Sherlock's shoulder.

"Yes," he nodded finally getting himself under control. What was wrong with him? He wondered. How had he found himself sitting in a cafe sipping coffee, swallowing wrong and mooning over some lovely young man? It was unconscionable.

"Fine! Thanks for the muffin," he said trying his best to avoid Carter's earnest face and reaching in his pocket for some money. He left ten pounds on the table, far more than was necessary to pay for the food. "I've got to go. Case," he managed to say while standing up. His half-eaten muffin littered his plate.

"Just a sec," Carter said and dashed around behind the counter. He placed another muffin in a paper bag and brought it round. "For the road," he said and handed it over.

Sherlock took the offered bag and left the shop as fast as he could. It was quite possible that he'd never be able to bring himself to set foot in the place again after that display. His phone pinged, and he received a text. It was from Lestrade.

Expected you here already. Where are you?

On my way. SH

Hurry up! We can't hold the crime scene much longer.

Be there in 30. SH

Make it 20. John's already here.

Sherlock pocketed his phone and tucked the bag with the muffin into his coat pocket. Maybe he could make it up to Lestrade by giving him a baked treat. He hailed a cab and gave the driver the directions.