Waiter in a suit - A Johnlock

3. Coincidence

John sat alone in the restaurant, glancing down at his nearly empty plate. He sighed, looking down at his phone to check the time before pressing his chin onto the palm of his right hand. He was beginning to grow bored as he waited for Emma to arrive. John also didn't quite understand something. Sherlock said she dumped him? But she said she would be late? Why would she dump him while they didn't meet yet. And she was clearly into him last time. He sighed hopelessly and started writing a text to her, asking where she was. Maybe Sherlock was just trolling with him. That's it. The idiot was just laughing with him. John sighed and continued eating his snack, which was cold already. But at least the growling in his stomach had stopped.
Suddenly, he heard an applause, it was loud and people were whistling. John looked at what caused the cheering, with his eyebrows knitted together into a soft frown.

Sherlock was right.

The two men were in each other's arms, kissing, tears sliding down both their cheeks. John's grin failed him as he looked off into the distance at the two. He did feel happy for them, but then this made him feel even worse, seeing two other people building up a life. Being happy. He turned away, finishing his food so he could leave the place. The only thing he needed right now was his silly apartment and his television. John didn't notice that his eyes were watery as he took in the happiness from the others. He shifted in his seat, sighing into his palm, the breath ghosting his wrist, making him shiver from the unexpectedness.

A minute later a police car pulled up in front of the restaurant, the blue lights spinning around, reflexing onto the red walls. John looked up, hoping to see some action there. A man stepped out the vehicle and walked to the front door. He didn't open the doors, he just kept standing there. John assumed that he was waiting for someone. And he was right, because seconds later, a familiar figure began pacing to the exit. Sherlock.

He was wearing his normal clothes, tailored black slacks, a long black coat and a deep blue scarf wrapped around his neck. John followed him with his hazel eyes, seeing Sherlock speaking to a silver haired man. After twenty seconds Sherlock began screaming at the other and stepped inside the vehicle, slamming the door closed. The silver haired man ran a hand over his face hopelessly and stepped inside the vehicle as well and drove away. John licked his bottom lip curiously. He then shook his head, looking down as he received a text.

Hi I'm sorry John. Couldn't make it, I'll explain it another time. Hope we can continue this. Maybe tomorrow or next week? I'm really sorry xx

- Emma

John sighed. He planned to reply later. He first wanted to get away from this place, clear his head a bit outside. He hollered a waiter and paid for the champagne and the snack he ordered. He put on his jacket and emerged the restaurant. He wanted to take a walk before taking the cab. He began walking into the direction of his apartment, holding his arms around himself to keep the cold evening breeze away, what obviously didn't help. John looked at the cars that passed by. He squeezed his eyes closed as car lights were burning his eyes.

After walking for more than twenty minutes. He heard horrid screams from somewhere. He was looking around, wanting to know what the noise was and to who it belonged. John frowned following the noise, but it was like he was surrounded by it. His breathing was loud, his heart beat accelerating. It reminded him from the time when he was in the army.

The noise silenced and John stopped in his tracks. He strained his ears to try and figure out what was happening, but he didn't have a clue. He didn't hear a thing. The only sound he could hear was his breathing and the evening breeze whistling. When the silence remained, he shook his head and continued walking to his apartment.

"That was weird." He mumbled to himself, sniffing his nose. For a moment he thought he would witness a crime. But no, his life was still dull as it was before. He sank his hand in his pocket of his jacket and took his phone in his hands so he could check the time. It was ten am. He was surprised that the time passed by so quickly. He stood still, deciding to reply on Emma her message. But then his phone fell flatly on the ground as someone ran into him. John gasped, frowning.

"Hey!" He yelled, bending down to grab his phone. Great broken screen. When John looked over his shoulder he couldn't believe who he was seeing. He turned around, standing upright.

"Isn't this a coincidence?" The waiter Sherlock Holmes said, amused. But for John this wasn't amusing at all. His phone is for the trash now.

"Sadly yes." John groaned, looking down at his phone. "You want me to call you an idiot now? Because you're the one that wasn't looking this time." John said referring to the restaurant scene, sliding his phone into his pocket. Sherlock grinned, grabbing his own phone between his slender fingers.

"If it makes you happy. Go ahead, I'm used to it." Sherlock replied calmly, looking around as in searching something or someone. John didn't except a reply like this, he looked at the ground, clearing his throat.

"Well, I'm not you, am I?" John said stiffly.

"Guess so." Sherlock shrugged, lifting his chin as he spotted something in the distance.

"Even though you're smart. You're still an asshole." John said, pursing his lips together. "You broke my phone." He added, crossing his arms, trembling slightly from the cold.

"Hmm." The man said absently, still looking around, not taking interest in John's blabbering about his broken phone.

"Hmm that's all what you can say?" John asked flatly, frowning deeply.

"I'm sure you can buy a new one." Sherlock replied, his piercing blue eyes meeting John's hazel ones. John laughed bitterly, his head shaking slightly.

"Are you serious?" He retorted, clenching his fists.

"You're wasting all your money on women, it's pathetic." He said, waving a hand.

"Some people would like to start a family." John retorted.

"You have been visiting the restaurant for months, I assume even years. Any improvements in finding your future wife?" Sherlock started, cocking an eyebrow. John was about to reply when Sherlock already spoke up again. "Guess not."

"How do you know about this?" John asked confused and rather annoyed. He saw this man for the first time Tuesday. So how did he see John while he wasn't there? Sherlock rolled with his eyes, an irritated sigh leaving his cupid bow lips and grabbed his wallet. He searched for some cash and stepped forwards, into John's personal space and slammed the cash in John's hand.

"It's all I have." He said with annoyance.

"Wait this is too much." John pointed out. Sherlock shrugged, pulling out his phone again.

"See it as an apology for calling you an idiot." He smirked, writing a text to someone.

"I'd prefer to hear a sorry from your mouth." John said as he sent Sherlock a stern look, stepping closer to him so he could give back the money. Sherlock smiled down at his phone.

"Keep it. I have to go." With that Sherlock Holmes began running away, continuing with whatever he was doing before. John followed Sherlock with his eyes suspiciously until he was out of sight.