Nᴏᴛ Gᴀʏ {Tᴇᴇɴ/Jᴏʜɴʟᴏᴄᴋ}

№ 27

"First stop," I said, as I had decided to lead the way to our next location. "We're getting you some socks."

Sherlock smirked as we walked up to a small building that was practically falling apart. "Is this place even open?" he asked, and I nodded.

"It's one of those 24/7 places. I'm sure it has socks. It has practically everything."

"You've been here before?" he asked, and I sort of laughed as my hand gripped the handle of the door.

"I used to work here," I said.

"Oh." Sherlock was surprised, and I let him be. I opened the door for him, and he sort of smiled at me as he walked in.

"John!" a boy at the counter said. "What brings you here, mate?"

Turning my head, I recognised my old work buddy, Mike Stamford. He stood at the counter, his elbows resting on the plastic surface. I laughed in surprise, walking over and patting him on the shoulder. I felt Sherlock's eyes on me, but when I turned to look at him, he pretended to be browsing the snack aisle.

"How are you?" I asked. "How's life been treating you?"

He shrugged. "It's alright," he said. "I suspect you go to school here then?"

"Yes," I said. "This is my flatmate, Sherlock. Sherlock-" his head immediately turned to me and he began walking over, having been paying attention to our whole conversation along with knowing what would happen next. "-this is Mike."

They shook hands, Sherlock's mood immediately switching, his mannerisms morphing completely as he gave Mike an exaggerated smile. "Nice to meet you," he said in a way that sounded oddly genuine.

Mike smiled back. "It's cold, yeah? Too cold, I think."

"Aye," Sherlock said, which I was surprised to hear. It sounded weird coming out of his mouth. Foreign, almost. "We've actually come for some socks."

"Back corner, to the left," Mike said, turning to a stack of papers as we went to look. Sherlock and I walked over to where he directed, finding a whole section of really distasteful and ugly socks in the corner.

After a few moments of looking, I found one pair that wasn't so threatening and held it out to him. "These ones are supposed to look like elf shoes."

He rolled his eyes. "Lovely."

"Oh, and these," I said, showing off a random pair that I grabbed. "These ones are pink with green and purple polka dots! Look at the stunning style-"

"It looks like Gucci," Sherlock said. "That's how bad they are."

I showed him another pair. "Look: cats!"

"Woah," he said in mock surprise, the corner of his lip pulling up into a subtle smile. "Fascinating."

"Truly is," I said. "Oh, and look! These ones say Madonna on the bottom of the foot."

"Madonna?" Sherlock asked. "What an odd name. And what a weird thing to put on a sock."

I narrowed my eyes, putting the pieces together in my head before letting my jaw drop open in disbelief. "You don't know who Madonna is?"

He shook his head, pursing his lips. "Absolutely no idea."

"The singer? You've never even heard of her?"

"Is she bad?" he asked. "Because, if so, I probably deleted her from my brain."

I nodded. "Yeah, I guess her music kinda sucks." Her songs never failed to get stuck in my head, though, and I found myself singing Like A Virgin to myself every once in a while. Whether I did subtle dance moves or not was unimportant.