Loyal (Johnlock)

Two Years Later (John's POV)

"Umm, the name's John!" I provided as he firmly grabbed my hand and shook it.

"Sherlock." He stared at me quizzically for a second, "Why are you wearing a leather collar?"

"Oh, ummm, there isn't really an explanation that I'm allowed to give you." I smiled and shrugged. He dropped my hand and continued to examine me.

"Thank you Susan." Sherlock smiled at her and she just laughed. The grin did not manage to reach Sherlock's eyes.

"No problem." She trilled as she left. Sherlock returned his icy blue and forest green gaze upon me.

"Can I borrow your phone?" Sherlock looks up and holds out his hand expectantly.

"Er, sure." I reach into my back pocket and hand it to him.

"Thank you." He gets up and begins to stalk around as he starts to type on it, keeping the screen hidden from me.

"Afghanistan or Iraq?" He randomly asks. I frowned slightly.

"Sorry?"

"Which was it- Afghanistan or Iraq?" He briefly raised his eyes to meet mine before they flick back to my phone in his hands.

"Afghanistan. Sorry, how did you know...?" The door suddenly opens and a small mousy looking girl enters holding a mug of coffee.

"Ah, Molly, coffee. Thank you." He shuts down my phone and hands it to me before taking the mug from the girl, Molly. He glares at her for a minute.

"What happened to the lipstick?" His deep voice questioned. I found the question slightly odd.

"It wasn't working for me." Molly smiled awkwardly.

"Really? I thought it was a big improvement. Your mouths too small now." He turned and walked back to his desk, taking a sip of the coffee and grimaced before setting the mug down.

"...Okay." Molly sighed, as if used to this. She turned around promptly and quietly made her escape.

"How do you feel about the violin?" Sherlock asked.

"I'm sorry, what?" I ruffled my hair. Sherlock started to type on his computer keyboard.

"I play the violin when I'm thinking. Sometimes I don't talk for days on end." He looked up at me, "Would that bother you? Potential flat mates should know the worst about each other." An alarmingly false smile suddenly leapt onto the man's face before he drops it and returns to his typing. I stare at him a moment.

"Wha..." I started, but remembered Susan saying something about flat mates.

"Clearly just home from military service in Afghanistan, wasn't that difficult a leap." He seemed to be talking to himself more than me.

"How did you know about Afghanistan?" He ignored my question and instead wrapped a scarf around his neck and picked up his mobile before checking it.

"I have my eye on a nice little place in central London. Together we should be able to afford it." He smiled as he stood by the door.

"IS that it?" I asked incredulously.

"Is that what?"

"We've only just met and we're gonna go look at a flat?" I was having trouble wrapping my head around how quickly this was all moving.

"Problem?" Sherlock asked, genuinely seeming slightly confused at my hesitance to follow him out the door.

"We don't know a thing about each other; I don't know where we are going." I ticked the reasons off on my fingers. Sherlock gazed closely at em for a moment and moved even closer.