I'd Be Lost Without My Blogger (Johnlock AU)

Seven

My head is a mess. I would never have thought that I would hesitate to meet Sherlock Holmes. I've always thought that when the opportunity came, I would jump on him, snog his face off, love him not so tenderly. But now, now I'm nailed to the cold hard floor, leaning my back against a brick wall, watching people's legs pass by.

At Sherlock's written words, I pull in my feet and wrap my arms around my legs, putting my chin on my knees. I play with the phone in my hands, twisting it between my thumb and index finger. Shall I stand, and man up, show him who the real Jon-eh John is and woo him over with my English charms and bright smile?

Oh who am I even kidding? Sherlock Holmes cannot be woo-ed so easily. Especially not by some idiot who steps on his toes and runs into him.

John_Watson

DM @Sherlock_221B: I'm really sorry for being such a klutz. Hope your toes are all right. X

I put my phone in my pocket and stand up. I brush the dirt from my jeans with a sigh. Goodbye Sherlock Holmes, goodbye chance on marrying the hottest man alive, the cutest boy of the universe, the love of my life. Am I being a bit too dramatic? I think not.

"Maybe a broken toe will improve my dancing."

Right then, I'm back on the ground. I don't even feel my behind hit the concrete as the now familiar smell hits me. It's close, so close that it causes me to shiver. I know that voice and I don't know how I didn't recognize it before. It's low, slow and it sounds like music to my ears. It's the best sound in the world and it's directed to me. What is my life?

He sits next to me, the boy that is worth over fifty million pounds or so just put his bum next to me. I can feel his elbow hit my arm but I'm afraid to look up. I'm afraid it's all a dream and that I'll wake up cold and alone. As always.

"Hey John." He says, voice smooth and sweet. I don't know why he's doing this, why he takes the effort to talk to me. Especially not after what I did only minutes ago. Why is he so kind?

"Hi Sherlock." I reply but I don't know if he heard me as I could barely hear myself. I'm breathing hard, almost panting. I feel awkward, I don't know what to say, what to do. I don't know where to put my arms and legs. I want to look up and see if it's really him even though the voice is a dead give-away but I can't seem to move my head. My eyes are glued to the ground where a lot of ankles are passing.

"Why are you sitting here?" He asks and I can feel his eyes scanning my figure. "It's kind of harsh on the bum, no?" From the corner of my eye I see him shifting a bit. Somehow he's scooted closer and I can literally feel his arm against mine from where both of our t-shirt sleeves are rolled up. I might have stolen that look from him.

I know I should answer him instead of shrugging my shoulders but it's hard when everything I've ever wished for is sitting right next to me. I should keep this conversation going if I don't want to mess things up even more. It was so nice to be able to talk to the real Sherlock even if it was on the

Internet. It was easy and comfortable so why would this be any different? Oh yeah, because I made a complete fool out of myself, that's why.

"Do you think your toe is actually broken?" My eyes jump from my feet to his suede boot clad ones. The material looks soft and bendable and guilt washes over me.

"I walk in big crowds a lot." He states, not making any sense. He pauses for a really long time before he continues. "People stand on my feet a lot. I have pretty big feet so it isn't easy for people to walk around them." He laughs a little at his own words and it's hard to keep up the sadness when I hear the silent chuckle escape his lips.