"So you've got an idea then? Blue?" John wondered.
"Indeed, it'll look wonderful." Sherlock decided with a confident smile, the type of smile that could make John's knees wobble.
"Don't make it too, you know, feminine." John muttered, a rather embarrassing specification, especially when confronted with the most feminine man he had ever met. Sherlock looked at John with a very peculiar look, shifting his weight onto his other leg and crossing his arms. He looked like a sassy teen girl on the cover of some stupid drama movie, but somehow he looked magnificent.
"Too, feminine?" he muttered.
"You know, like...If it looks like I decorated my yard with perfect color coordination you know, they might think...stuff." John muttered. Sherlock's eyes squinted in accusation, and John started to take a lot of notice to the grass underneath his feet. Fascinating grass, truly.
"You're worried they might think you have good taste?" Sherlock wondered, sounding genuinely confused yet all the same offended, as if John was somehow insulting his gardening skills.
"No, not good taste you know, people might think I'm...gay." John muttered. He looked up just in time to see the small look of shock on Sherlock's face, and for a split second John could've sworn he saw some color in Sherlock's cheeks, some red, embarrassment.
"If you're so worried about the assumption of homosexuality then obviously you're not gay, so I wouldn't worry too much about it." Sherlock snapped, looking even more offended. John muttered something but while he stared into Sherlock's green eyes he couldn't quite make out what he was trying to say. He really hoped it wasn't something stupid, because even though john's ears weren't working it didn't mean Sherlock's weren't either. He here was, insisting he was straight to the man that he had dreamt about last night. John was being the definition of a hypocrite, but Sherlock didn't know that, at least not yet.
"I didn't say I wasn't gay, I just meant that I don't want anyone to think I was." John muttered quickly, which made no sense at all.
"So you're accusing me of being gay because I have an eye for color?" Sherlock wondered.
"No, of course not, course not just, you know..." John muttered, cutting of his own sentence because he didn't want to say anything he might later regret.
"If you don't want me as your gardener then that's fine, even though I hate to leave piles of dirt untended I would be happy to let you sit back and grow a jungle of weeds outside of your front window. I'm sure no one will doubt your sexuality then." Sherlock snapped.
"I didn't mean it as an offense, you know, I don't care if you're gay, and I want you to do my gardening, please, you're right, it'll be a wreck without you." John said very quickly, but obviously he had said one too many things. Sherlock didn't seem impressed; in fact he was still looking as if John had personally offended him. John smiled innocently at Sherlock, now feeling extremely guilty for turning such a beautiful smile into a frown, he felt like he was depriving the world of one of its natural wonders. But still Sherlock's face didn't even try to smile, and John was left alone under the harsh darkness that was the disappointment of Sherlock Holmes.
"I think I should probably go." Sherlock decided, not bothering to give an excuse why. Of course John wouldn't believe any excuse he had managed to make up, he knew that Sherlock was leaving because he was upset with everything John had just accused him of.
"Ya, alright." John muttered. Sherlock stared at John for a split second before turning away, whistling shrilly so that Redbeard appeared at his heels, wagging his tail, unable to sense the tension that was going on between the two of them.
"I'm sorry Sherlock!" John called, not wanting Sherlock to leave on a bad note. But of course Sherlock ignored him, and the moment that gardener's foot touched the pavement John had already disappeared inside. John sighed heavily, walking into his house and slamming the door rather aggressively behind him. How stupid, how plain moronic did he have to be to insult Sherlock twice in one simple conversation? Ugh, Sherlock probably thought that John hated him; he probably thought that John had something against gay people; he probably assumed that John was only hiring him to do his landscaping because he pitied him. Oh that wasn't it at all. The problem with situation was that the only way to clear it up would be with the truth. The only way John could assure Sherlock he was alright with Sherlock's possible sexuality was to admit that he had feelings for him, and that was something John could never do. Half of the reason he had hired to do his gardening was because he loved the idea of Sherlock being around so often throughout the day, and now Sherlock was under the assumption that John thinks gardening was a wasted profession. And now Sherlock might not come back, he might not even want to think about John fro at least a week. How could John go a week without a word when every second they were apart made his heart ache? There was something about that man that made John crave his presence, he was almost like a drug, with his sparkling smile, his beautiful hair and smooth skin and flawless personality, just knowing that he was on Sherlock's mind made John's heart glow. But now there was no doubt in John's mind that Sherlock was thinking about him, and this might be the only time when John didn't want him to. Sherlock was probably going over curses in his head, pretending that the dirt he shoveled was John's head, slamming his shovel over and over again into the ground. Was Sherlock legitimately offended or was there something else going on? Was he a big drama queen or was he under the impression that every chance he had with John had vanished? Was he so upset by John's outburst because he was now under the false impression that John was straight? Had he been hoping for the other option? John groaned, sinking into his couch and flipping on the news, feeling like he should be banging his head into a wall at the moment. Stupid, stupid, stupid. How could he be so stupid? Now whatever slim chance John had at successfully going out with Sherlock was ruined, ruined until he could somehow mend whatever hole he had ripped into their platonic relationship. John spent the rest of the day wallowing in self-pity. For some reason Sherlock's dislike had sent him spiraling into a torrent of doubt and regret and anger, he felt like there was a bit melting pot of emotions brewing in the pit of his stomach, all of them negative, so negative that it made his heart hurt. He knew that he couldn't go out to apologize, not when Sherlock might still be simmering in his own anger, John knew that he had to at least wait a day until he cleared everything up. Maybe he could send an apology text or something like that, try to clear the air the best he could. Then again, John knew nothing about this man, he didn't know how he handled disagreements, whether or not he took only a day to be mature enough to apologize himself or if it took him a whole month just to accept John's heartfelt apology. So obviously he was going to need an expert, someone who had known Sherlock Holmes for years, someone who might have been in this very situation before. In about ten minutes the doorbell rang, and John was just finishing up the sandwiches he had put together when he looked up in relief. He knew that he had just had sandwiches yesterday with Mrs. Hudson, but they were the only meal he could successfully put together and besides, all sandwiches were a little bit different. John wiped his mayonnaise covered hands off on the hand towel hanging on the oven door and walked over to the front door, pulling it open with the most genuine smile he could produce in a time of such self-loathing.
"Hello!" Molly Hooper said with a smile, in her arms a bag of ruffled potato chips.
"Molly, hi, thanks for coming." John muttered, holding the door open wider so that she could walk inside. John closed the door rather awkwardly, leading her into the kitchen where the plates of sandwiches were sitting. Obviously Molly had no idea what this was about, she might think that it was just some friends having lunch but then again she could also think it was a lunch date, just the two of them. In some ways John almost wished it was a lunch date, at least she didn't hate him, but in reality it was a lot more awkward than that. He was going to have to confess his secret, or at least skirt around it for as long as he possibly could before Molly put the pieces together. John needed to figure out just what he had said to offend Sherlock, which of the two accusations had hit home, because in order to apologize correctly he needed to know what exactly he was sorry for.
"So not that I'm complaining, but why are you even home? I only realized after you picked up the phone that you work over at the school, and I hope school is in session because that's where my son is supposed to be right now." John muttered. Molly laughed rather guiltily, as if it was all coming back to her.
"Oh, ya, I wasn't...feeling well. Ya, when I woke up I had such a bad headache, and I just decided..."
"Everyone needs to skip work sometimes Molly, it's not a big deal." John assured, and Molly sighed in relief.
"I'm sorry, I usually don't do this but the new season of Grey's Anatomy came out on Netflix today and I've been so behind already." Molly admitted with a guilty sigh. John just laughed, that was a perfectly acceptable reason to call off of work.
"That's very understandable. The only reason I'm home is because I haven't even filled out my resume." John agreed. Molly just laughed, nodding rather awkwardly and looking down at her bag of chips, as if suddenly remembering she had them.
"I brought some chips, sorry that it's not much but it wasn't a lot of notice." Molly admitted with a disappointed little shrug, setting the chips down on the counter as if she knew they were a failure. John shook his head rapidly, not wanting Molly to think that she had to bring something every time she came over.
"No it's fine Molly, that's my fault. I actually wanted to talk about something, someone, to be exact." John muttered. Molly looked a bit confused, eyeing John as if he were talking in riddles, which he was of course. He did love to be dramatic.
"Who is it that we'll be talking about? I love gossip as much as the next person but I don't want to be mean." Molly admitted rather awkwardly. John could see the inner battle between curiosity and niceness going on in her head right now.
"No, I don't want to be mean, definitely not, I just kind of want to, you know, clear the air about someone." John muttered. Molly nodded, looking a little bit relieved and eyeing one of the sandwiches rather hopefully.
"Alright, you've got my attention. Who is it?" Molly wondered. John took a deep breath, wondering if this was a good idea or not. Did he even trust Molly enough to confide in her such secret information? Obviously she was bad at keeping secrets, considering it only took about three seconds of interaction between her and Sherlock for John to figure out that she was as taken with him as John was.
"Well, I mean...Sherlock." John muttered, looking down at his feet in shame.
"You want to talk about Sherlock?" Molly wondered, as if she hadn't been able to figure that out by John's previous sentence. Not very bright this one.
"Ya, we got in a fight this morning, I mean, I guess it was a fight, more like a silent disagreement that led to walking swiftly away, but it was enough to make me realize it was time to try to figure him out." John decided. He looked up to see Molly very awkwardly picking at the bottom of her jacket, her cheeks glowing with a faint shade of pink.
"Sherlock is so confusing that I've just stopped trying to figure him out, but I'd be happy to help I guess." Molly agreed.
"Brilliant." John muttered with a sort of smile, pushing one of the sandwiches in Molly's direction to show her that her compliance would be rewarded with a depressing looking ham sandwich.
"So, what was this argument about?" Molly wondered, picking up her sandwich and taking a bite just to give herself something to do other than blush at the thought of her crush.
"Well, I guess he somehow thought I had insulted his gardening skills, I hired him to give my yard a bit of a touch up and mentioned that I didn't want it to look too feminine. I mean, he had this whole spread of blue flowers that I can't even pronounce, and I thought that maybe it would look like some middle aged mom lived here instead of me, and that got him all riled up." John admitted.
"Never insult the gardening, and if he starts to get a little bit defensive, call it landscaping. Even though he enjoys flowers and hair brushes and People magazine he still wants to somehow defend his masculinity, whatever is left of it at least." Molly muttered.
"Do you think that's just a cover? Do you think he's only defending himself in public so that people don't get the wrong idea?" John wondered.
"You're asking me if he's gay?" Molly asked flatly, and John blinked in surprise. He didn't really want to ask too directly, but now that she guessed there seemed to be nothing wrong with nodding in agreement.
"I literally have no idea, and it would be a good thing to know I suppose." John muttered. Molly sighed, setting her sandwich down and staring out the window for a moment, as if trying to choose her words carefully.
"I've known Sherlock for close to five years now, and I'm still as confused as you are. He's never had any sort of relationship but he often puts flowers together and hands them out on the street, as I mentioned. I think he just likes to see people smile to be honest, every time he gets someone's phone number he just tosses it." Molly admitted.
"He's never handed flowers out to a guy though, right?" John wondered.
"Ya, he has, many times, he'll give some to anyone he sees." Molly shrugged. John sighed, well that didn't help at all.
"He seems like he has a very flirtatious personality, which doesn't help either." John muttered.
"I think the only way we'll ever find out is to just see who his first relationship is with." Molly decided.
"If that ever happens." John agreed.
"It might happen sooner than we'd think." Molly shrugged.
"What makes you say that?" John wondered. Molly just shrugged, a little shrug that made John think she's had a very similar conversation with another person.
"Why do you ask?" Molly wondered, taking another bite of her sandwich and awkwardly rubbing spare mayonnaise off of her lips with the back of her hand.
"About his sexuality? No reason, I mean...ya, no reason." John muttered, a very convincing argument to say the least.
"I think you're asking for the same reasons I am." Molly decided with an accusing little smile. John blinked a couple of times, not knowing what to make of that sentence.
"And why might that be?" John wondered rather awkwardly. Molly just sighed, as if the answer was painfully true.
"You want to know if you have a chance." She muttered. John laughed rather forcefully, but looked at Molly with an almost hopeful glare, pretending not to like him but hoping beyond hope that she'd see right through that. "It's alright John, I'm not surprised. I feel like everyone he comes into contact with falls in love with him, like you said, flirtatious personality." Molly said this in a very defeated tone, as if as she realized John's feeling she also realized her chances of being with Sherlock were diminished.
"Ya, I mean, you're kind of, you know, you like him." John muttered, his words scattered about in a big awkward jumble.
"He's just so...beautiful. That's not a word I throw around lightly, especially with men, but he just has that radiating aura of just pure beauty, it's kind of unfair." Molly decided. John nodded in silent agreement, feeling a bit more at ease knowing that someone else shared his views.
"It's also very intimating, you wonder what someone so perfect could ever see in you." John agreed in a sort of mumble, and Molly's face broke into a relieved smile.
"Finally someone understands." She agreed, and John laughed rather awkwardly.