BBC Sherlock Imagines (Book 3)

John: A Man a Week

It was Sunday, and a rainy one at that. Water fell down the windows at a rapid rate. You grabbed your latte from the barista and headed to your usual table. It sat against one of the big windows, so you had a perfect view of the street and all the people walking up and down it. Sometimes you liked people watching more than reading.

Because most tables were made to seat two people, but you always came alone, you had an extra chair to rest your feet up on. There was space to spread out your book and your coffee, plus a pencil in case there were any lines that caught your eye and you wanted to underline for later. Today, like every Sunday, you started a new book. Yes, you read almost a book a week. Thanks to the underground commute time every morning and evening to and from work, plus the fact that you lived alone and only really hung out with friends during the weekend, you had a lot of time for reading. This week, it was Little Women. You remembered having it read to you as a little girl, but after watching the new movie, you wanted to enter into the book yourself. Who knows, maybe you could be the happy ending in Jo's story.

You opened the cover, which was designed in navy leather, with sewn letters for the title and a painted portrait of the sisters. It was an old edition, but for four dollars, you felt like you got quite a deal.

"May I sit here?"

The sudden appearance of a voice unknown to you caused you to jump a little, making the table shake and the edges of your latte threaten the sides of the cup.

"Oh, sorry, didn't mean to frighten you," said the voice. You looked up, into the blue eyes of an annoyingly charming man. Slight wrinkles decorated the corners of his eyes, mouth and the top of his forehead. His hair was graying, and grocery sized bags weighed down his eyes, giving you the impression that he barely slept a wink, ever. Seeing as you hadn't responded, still, he cocked his head slightly and clicked his tongue while he waited.

"Oh, sorry," you finally choked out, feeling your face redden. "Umm..." You went to tell him that yes, he could sit down, but your feet were still planted comfortably on the chair, and your stuff all over the table. He saw you glance down at your feet on the chair.

"Really? It's taken?" he asked with a nervous chuckle, unsure if you were really going to use your feet as an excuse to not let him sit down.

"N-no, please," you said, motioning to the chair as you reluctantly removed your feet. There were some faint dirt marks on it, but he didn't seem to notice. He sat down anyway.

You looked around the coffee shop for any explanation as to why this man had come to sit by you. Were all the other tables full? Nope. Was there a sign next to you telling random strangers to come sit by you? Nope. There were no other explanations, so you watched him sit down across from you, and you said nothing.

He looked at you, almost waiting for you to say something, trying to stop himself from starting the conversation. His lips were parted, twitching slightly as words tried to form. Because you were the best at maintaining awkward eye contact for longer than anyone else, he broke first. "John Watson," he said, "uh, that's my name." His eyes squinted and he looked away from you momentarily with faltering eyes. You wanted him to look back at you, so you decided it was best that you speak.

"(Y/f/n) (Y/l/n) - that's my name," you said, mocking him a bit. His eyes widened and sparkled as you responded. Both of you were silent, and you pondered why in the world he wanted to sit by you if HE wasn't going to say anything. You looked at him, and he was already looking at you but then looked away quickly to the window. You decided to look out the window too, and for awhile, you both just stared.

If this was a scene in a book, you would be asking the character why the heck she was sitting at a table with a random person. But now you understood. There was something here, something he wanted to say. Maybe something you should say?