The One Next Door

You Hold, I'll Punch

"I assume you're on your way to the coffee shop?" Molly asked.
"I am, and I guess you two are as well?" he agreed.
"We are, would you like to walk with us?" Molly asked.
"No, he doesn't, he has polio, he has to stay home." Sherlock shrugged. "Shame really."
"I didn't know you were a doctor Sherlock." John said proudly.
"I'm whatever I need to be, jerk." Sherlock snapped.
"He's kidding of course, please, walk with us." Molly decided.
"I guess I will, since we're headed to the same place." John agreed.
"Never mind, I have polio." Sherlock insisted.
"Come on Sherlock, we're going to be late, stop whining." Molly insisted, dragging Sherlock by the jacket and pulling him down the stairs, not unlike John being dragged by his dog.
"So, do you like the place so far?" Molly asked as they started down the sidewalk. It was still early, and not many cars or people passed alongside them. Sherlock was purposely third wheeling, he didn't want to be next to John or even walk in the same line as him. That scum.
"IT's really nice, moving out of my old town, moving on with my life." John shrugged.
"Is this your first time living alone?" Molly asked.
"Ya, out of college I lived with my parents, but I got my own job, my own life, and here I am." John said with a smile. Or at least Sherlock assumed he smiled, because he was kicking a rock across the sidewalk, pretending to not hear whatever John had to say.
"What do you do?" Molly asked.
"Oh, I work down at the hardware shop down the street. Not all that great of a career, but it gets me some money I suppose." John shrugged.
"That's fine; we all have to start somewhere." Molly agreed. Sherlock growled deep in his throat, but didn't say anything for fear that Molly would push him into oncoming traffic. They walked all the way to the coffee shop, where the other employees were already opening up, a few costumers trafficking in and out.
"You two are late." Sarah pointed out as she wiped down the counter with a white rag.
"Sorry, we caught some company on the way down." Molly explained. Sherlock hung up his coat and scowled, walking behind the counter and putting on an apron before he could express his dislike.
"Isn't that..." Sarah started.
"The idiot that verbally abused me on my first day? Yes." Sherlock agreed. Sarah nodded, watching Molly say goodbye and John go get a table, setting up his laptop before ordering coffee.
"Do they have a thing or something?" she asked, watching Molly tie an apron behind her long brown hair.
"No, at least, I hope not." Sherlock sighed.
"I thought you had a thing with her." Sarah pointed out.
"At first impression it would seem like that, yes." Sherlock agreed.
"But you don't?" Sarah clarified.
"No, I don't." Sherlock insisted.
"I'm kind of getting a vibe here that you're not totally..." Sarah let her sentence drift, playing a little game of fill in the blank.
"Straight?" Sherlock guessed.
"Ya." Sarah agreed.
"Guilty." Sherlock sighed. Sarah nodded, not looking too surprised, and tapping her fingers on the counter.
"Do you have thing with him?" she asked.
"If one more person asks me that, I'm going to..."
"Hopefully get to work." Jeanette appeared from her office, looking a bit disappointed.
"Yes, totally." Sherlock agreed. Sarah just laughed; walking up to the counter to serve a costumer that was waiting there.
"What was that all about?" Molly asked.
"Oh, nothing, just regular boy stuff." Sherlock admitted.
"Oh, so..." Molly muttered.
"It's not a difficult leap Molly; surely other people could make it." Sherlock pointed out, and Molly just nodded. So Sherlock went to his station behind the counter, passing out the people's coffees and trying his best to keep his wandering eyes off of John, who sat, coffeeless, behind a laptop, seeming very interested with whatever was on the screen. Finally, in about a half hour, he got up and placed an order, the usual large medium roast and loitering over by Sherlock's spot on the counter.
"So, do you usually wait to place your order, or was that on impulse?" Sherlock asked.
"You noticed?" John asked.
"I walked in with you, and you're just now getting your coffee." Sherlock pointed out, not looking at him but pretending to be examining the line of early morning customers.
"Well, I wanted to get some work done before I got my coffee." John pointed out.
"You said you worked at the hardware store, so how come you stay here so late?" Sherlock asked.
"I only work a couple of days a week, and some of it is computer stuff, checking inventory, like I'm doing now." John pointed out.
"You get paid to check numbers?" Sherlock asked.
"You get paid to hand out cups." John defended.
"Fair point." Sherlock agreed.
"Do you mind if I ask you why you hate me so much?" John asked.
"Yes." Sherlock agreed.
"Why do you hate me so much?" John asked.
"Margret!" Sherlock called, holding up an iced coffee with a lot of whipped cream on top.
"That's not a very good answer." John decided.
"That's because I'm not answering such a pointless question." Sherlock agreed.
"It's a fair question." John insisted.
"And I said I'm not answering it, no matter how fair it is." Sherlock agreed.
"We should get to know each other; I would offer a cup of coffee, but..." John muttered.
"I'm not going to go anywhere with you, especially not in public." Sherlock snapped.
"So, in private then?" John asked.
"I'm not doing that either." Sherlock insisted.
"Well, I'm an alright chief; I can make us some food, come over and have a chat." John shrugged.
"I'm not going to chat with you, and if you come to my apartment you'll find that you'll be dining alone." Sherlock decided.
"I think Molly would be good with the idea of dinner." John guessed.
"Then why don't you have dinner with Molly? Please, leave me out of it if at all possible." Sherlock insisted. Sarah placed a large medium roast coffee marked John on the counter, and Sherlock sighed in relief. He picked up the coffee and shoved it at John, who took it with an antagonizing smile.
"I'll see you around Sherlock." He decided.
"You're sitting in a table at the shop I work at; of course you'll see me!" Sherlock yelled after his retreating back. So he just grumbled, moodily handing out coffees for the rest of his break, noticing that John, even though he had long since finished his coffee, remained at his seat, scrolling through hardware store inventory with a concentrated look. Every so often he'd look up and catch Sherlock looking at him, and Sherlock would pull the most hateful scowl he could manage and went back to staring at the counter, very much wanting to throttle that idiot's neck. When finally their shift was over, Sherlock and Molly put their aprons back under the counter and getting their coats from the hangar. To Sherlock's annoyance, another coat was pulled down as well.
"I'm assuming we're going the same way." John guessed, pulling on his black coat with a smile.
"Just leave us alone, my god!" Sherlock groaned.
"Sherlock, be nice." Molly insisted.
"I'm being neighborly, it's a concept not yet understood by you I'm guessing." John decided.
"I'm going to rip your little..." Sherlock started.
"Sherlock, enough!" Molly insisted, jumping in front of Sherlock before punches were thrown. John's smile didn't waver, and that only made Sherlock angrier.
"He's antagonizing." Sherlock muttered to Molly, who just smiled.
"He is not, he's being friendly, now be nice." She insisted. Both of them knew fully that John could hear every word that was exchanged. So Sherlock just walked out of the door grumpily, not waiting for either of his neighbors to join him. He power walked down the sidewalk, wanting to be in his apartment before either one of them caught him and made him talk. Maybe Molly and John would go out to lunch or something, leave him alone to wallow in his hatred. But why did he hate John so much? He only said a couple of mean things; he's been nice this whole time? But no, he hasn't, he's been an absolute disaster, he's been a horrible, maniacal idiot that's sole purpose was to make Sherlock's preciously fine life a living Hell. It's been his goal all along, obviously. So when Sherlock got back to his apartment he sat on the couch, staring at the wall and not turning on the radio or the TV or anything. That could always be interpreted as a little bit odd, but at the moment no one was there to judge him, and so if he wanted to stare at a wall, he most certainly would. He spent the remainder of his day like that. Molly came over to try to talk, but Sherlock really didn't feel like talking, so he didn't open the door for her no matter how aggressively she knocked. When it seemed that she'd get a battering ram, finally Molly stopped knocking and he heard her retreating footsteps and an exasperated gasp. Molly being dramatic, as only Molly could. When it came time for bed, Sherlock got up and changed into his pajamas and lay staring at the ceiling, clenching his fists and staring at the ceiling in hate. Why must John be so insufferable, what was he hoping to accomplish other than Sherlock's imminent demise? Or was that the plan all along? Was he trying to get Sherlock mad, trying to get him to hate him? Were his little smiles and stupid insults meant to somehow drive Sherlock into a spiraling mental decent? Well, if it was, it was definitely working. Because right now, Sherlock could almost feel his brain starting to turn to pudding.