Nᴏᴛ Gᴀʏ {Tᴇᴇɴ/Jᴏʜɴʟᴏᴄᴋ}

№ 18

We arrived. We were seven minutes late, but we arrived.

A loud, festive song was being played on a stereo as we stepped out of the taxi and made our way to the entrance of a large tent in the middle of an oversized pumpkin patch. Sherlock took a wad of money out of his pocket and handed it to the man at the door, who gave us each one ticket. We put them in our pockets, and I stood awkwardly next to Sherlock as we waited for Molly.

"Useless, the tickets," he mumbled quietly. "We're not going to do anything except for hold them. What's the use of a piece of paper that's only for carrying around?"

Shushing him, I put my hands in my coat pockets and waited. "People like to keep them as a sort of collection sometimes," I said, and he scoffed.

"Collecting paper. As if collecting anything was bad enough."

I sighed. "Well, with all the sitting around you do, you, young man, happen to collect a lot of dust."

Sherlock rolled his eyes, dropping his ticket into the rubbish bin and shaking his head.

I glanced over at him again, taking in what I hadn't been able to before. His coat was slung over his right arm since the tent was heated, and he had a powerful, formal stance about him, looking straight ahead at the cold setting, likely making it colder with his stare alone.

I liked how he looked. And it was embarrassing to know. But he made me feel giddy and warm, and it wasn't just his shirt. Although it did have a significant part in it.

"Sherlock!" Molly called, approaching us from outside. "Hello!" She paid for her ticket, coming inside and nodding awkwardly at me.

"Hi, Molly," I said after Sherlock stayed silent. "How are you?"

"Good!" she smiled, looking around. Her hand fiddled with the hem of her dress, and we awkwardly and silently stood still until she added, "Well, there's food, and music, and dancing. There are games outside as well. There's a pumpkin carving contest!" Her voice was light and breathy, a quality that I envied of it.

"Generic," Sherlock muttered, "but I suppose the average human would find it... fun."

Molly smiled up at Sherlock. "You look... good," she said. "I haven't seen you dressed up before."

"Neither have I," I muttered breathlessly to the floor as my flatmate nodded nonchalantly and dismissed the subject.

"People may be hurt at this event," he said. "So be cautious."

"Oh, you're so sweet, looking out for me like that," Molly gushed, and I pursed my lips.

"No," I said, "There's actually an attack planned and we're here to stop it."

Sherlock glared at me, as if I had just ruined everything. I shrugged as Molly's smile faded. "Oh. Well... then it's nice of you to look out for everyone like that." Swallowing and anxiously motioning to a chess table in the corner, she took in a shaky breath and asked, "Do you want to sit down?"

Without responding, we all walked over to the table, and I sat across from Sherlock and watched as he moved a pawn one space forward. I thought it was rude that he was playing with me and completely ignoring Molly, but I went along with it anyway, moving my pawn two spaces closer to him as Molly fiddled with her nice pink gown.