John leaned against the counter, placing his chin on his hands and breathing heavily, sounding as if he had just been pulled from the ocean or something. John couldn't see either of his guests, but somehow he knew Sherlock's eyes were on him, he knew because whenever those beautiful eyes were fixed on him the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. He could feel that lingering nervousness, the inability to relax and the need to impress. Somehow he had to look as beautiful and as desirable as possible, he needed to make Sherlock love him even more, if that was even possible. Sherlock hadn't been very open with his emotions, but for some reason John still got the impression that Sherlock's little heart was struggling just to keep up. The coffee maker buzzed and John poured everyone large cups, putting the sugar and cream out for them to use as they would like. Sherlock looked rather disappointed to see that the coffee wasn't black, but John wasn't going to make it since Sherlock was the only one he knew that enjoyed such a harsh drink. John mixed in some sugar to his coffee and leaned against the back counter, watching as Hamish and Redbeard chased each other around the house with Hamish's tennis balls from back when he wanted to play tennis. One lesson in and he had changed his mind, wanting to play soccer instead. He was a very confusing boy, especially at a young age, so they had a lot of miscellaneous sports equipment lying about the house. John remembered one time Mary got so angry because she had spent so much on tennis equipment for him, John had to take Hamish out for ice cream to avoid her wrath. That had only been a stepping stone to the divorce, or at least something that gave John the sneaking suspicion that this marriage might not be the best thing. Looking back, John wondered where Mary had gone during that whole ordeal. Probably to Charles's house, being the lying dirty awful woman she was.
"So, Mrs. Hudson, any good restaurants around here, cheap ones?" Sherlock wondered, breaking John's loathing train of thought.
"Oh do I ever, I know every restaurant in a fifty mile radius." Mrs. Hudson said proudly.
"Get out too much do you? Or just spend too much time on Yelp?" John wondered, sipping his coffee innocently. Sherlock smiled proudly at him, as if John had taken the words right out of his mouth.
"Why do you ask Sherlock?" Mrs. Hudson wondered, completely ignoring John's question as if she were ashamed of the answer. Sherlock looked awkwardly down at his coffee, as if ashamed to admit the real reason.
"Oh, you know, just wondering." He muttered, sneaking a quick look up to John before seeing John was staring right back.
"He wants to know where we can go on our next date. He's just too humble to admit it." John pointed out, and Sherlock sighed heavily.
"I'm not humble, I just didn't know if you didn't want to discuss this in front of Mrs. Hudson." Sherlock admitted, poking at his coffee and watching ripples overtake the dark surface.
"Then why did you bring it up?" John wondered, and Sherlock seemed to curl into even more of a mental ball of shame.
"He doesn't want to boast but he wants someone to do it for him." Mrs. Hudson offered, and John nodded in agreement.
"It was just a question." Sherlock said very quietly, his cheeks blushing in shame.
"It's alright Sherlock, she knows we're dating, it's a fair question." John assured. It was rather funny to admit out loud that they were dating, it still seemed like John had to hide his emotions in public, to be so open about a homosexual relationship, it felt like this was some sort of weird dream instead of reality.
"Well I'd say the Ironworks Pub is the place to go, amazing burgers, fries, beer, the whole works. And the chocolate cake is phenomenal." Mrs. Hudson offered.
"Brilliant, sounds perfect, I'm always up for a good burger." John agreed.
"I'm paying this time; in fact I should pay for the next two times considering you paid last time." Sherlock decided. John had to admit, that was fair, but then again he could never let Sherlock do that.
"You repaid me by just showing up, and besides, I had to impress you, didn't I?" John pointed out.
"You could've impressed me with no more than a bag of corn chips, I'm paying." Sherlock decided, crossing his arms as if his mind was set. John just shook his head, knowing that this wasn't going to work out very well, let the battle of niceness begin.
"We'll decide later." John decided, finishing this argument before it started.
"How was the sushi there?" Mrs. Hudson wondered.
"I thought you knew every restaurant in a fifty mile radius?" John pointed out, looking to Sherlock for help.
"Yes, you should know this already Mrs. Hudson, or were you lying?" Sherlock wondered with a teasing little smile. Mrs. Hudson held up her hands defensively, as if not wanting to be falsely accused of anything.
"I've been there only once, a long time ago, and I heard they switched owners so I was curious to see how it would turn out." Mrs. Hudson admitted.
"False advertising." John decided, taking a sip of his coffee and glaring at Mrs. Hudson from behind the rim of his cup.
"Most definitely." Sherlock agreed, smiling a little bit but taking a sip of his coffee as well, as if to try to look more intimating than he actually was. It didn't take long for their cups to drain and their conversations to dwindle, and once they had made a time and place for their date, Sherlock and Mrs. Hudson decided it was time for them to get going. It ended up being perfect timing, however, because as soon as they got up from their stools, Hamish came running in claiming that he needed a new tennis ball because they had lost the old one. So with some awkward goodbyes and a small little wave for Sherlock, John closed the door and was all alone once more.
"When's your next date?" Hamish wondered.
"Tuesday night, five o'clock, at some pub." John admitted with a dreamy little sigh.
"You're going to need a baby sitter." Hamish decided.
"I'm going to need a new outfit; I can't wear the same thing." John groaned.
"Oh come on daddy, you've got two days to plan for it, relax." Hamish insisted.
"It's impossible to relax when he's so BEAUTIFUL!" John yelled, making Hamish jump back in shock.
"Sorry, got carried away there." John muttered guilty, and Hamish just laughed.
"At least I know what you really think." Hamish decided, and John just shook his head in amusement. No Hamish, you don't even know the half of it.
"He really likes you too, I saw him watching you when you put the Band-Aid on, he looked entranced." Hamish pointed out, and John just laughed rather guiltily.
"Did he really?" John asked hopefully.
"Oh ya, you're not the only one breathtakingly in love." Hamish agreed with a little laugh. John sighed in relief, even though he already knew this it was good to have a second opinion.
"Brilliant, that definitely makes my day." John decided.
"You should marry him." Hamish suggested. John just smiled hopefully, shrugging a little bit and looking at his son, wondering where he got all of these wild ideas from.
"Maybe someday, but I'm going to wait to make sure I'm making the right choice before I go making another irresponsible decision." John decided.
"Are you saying that marrying Mommy was a mistake?" Hamish wondered.
"I'm not saying that." John lied, even though that was very obviously what he had been getting at.
"It's alright, I know it was. I know that she didn't make you happy." Hamish assured. John sighed heavily, not wanting his son to get any of the wrong ideas, or in this case, the right ones.
"That's very mature of you Hamish, but know this, I don't regret having you at all. In fact, I'm pretty sure you're the only good thing that happened in all of my years of knowing that woman. You're the only thing I don't want to give back." John admitted. Hamish smiled proudly, as if he were proud to be appreciated by his father.
"Thanks daddy, I love you too." he agreed, and with that he pranced up to his room, leaving John alone to walk over to the couch and sit down heavily. He stared at the blank TV screen for a moment, thinking about Sherlock, thinking about what a lovely future he could have with that man, with that beautiful man. He knew that he hadn't even scratched the surface on everything that made Sherlock perfect, there were still so many things undiscovered about his personality. Of course these traits were probably just as good as the rest of him, but John also wondered if it was all too good to be true. Was he once again falling into a pit of hopeless love, blinded by the beautiful face and universe eyes, too busy picturing their wedding to take into consideration all of Sherlock's other traits. What if he turned out to be a horrible man, what if he was very controlling, or too shy to go to family parties, what if he snored? These were all bad things that John hadn't considered until now, bad things that John needed to cross off his list before he blindly pledged himself once more. Then again, Sherlock Holmes seemed to be perfect all around, if not the man, what else could go wrong?

"Andthis is your first time working for Gavin's Groceries?" Asked the manager,peering over John's application with his eyebrows fused into a little ball offuzz right about his nose.
"Yes sir, first time." John agreed, straightening out his tie a bit more andrepositioning himself on his uncomfortable plastic chair. He had finally filledout the application and thankfully when he went to turn it in he got aninterview right off the bat. Maybe they were happy to see a responsible lookingoverqualified man, but then again, they might just be desperate.
"And why would you like to work for us here at Gavin's Groceries?" the managerasked, sniffling heavily and making John flinch.
"Well, I've just moved to town and it's been a bit hard to find work, but Ithink I have the social skills required to be an excellent cashier, and I knowI'll do my best each and every day." John said with a hopeful little smile. Themanager didn't even look over, all John could see was his greasy black combover sticking out from overtop of his application. It definitely wasn't a fancyestablishment, but at least John would never be under dressed.
"Well then, you're hired." He decided, setting John's application down on thedesk without a smile or any warmth whatsoever.
"Hired? Already?" John asked with a grateful laugh, grateful if not disbelieving.
"Would you like me to consult with the other cashiers?" the manager asked witha snarky little voice.
"No, a job, that's excellent, thank you sir, thank you very much." John saidwith a smile, getting up from his chair and extending a hand to shake. Themanager shook his hand very awkwardly, and as soon as they pulled away hesquirted his hands with hand sanitizer from a large bottle on his desk, as ifsomehow John was the grosser of the two.
"Well then, show up here tomorrow at eight o'clock, what size shirt are you?"the manager wondered, grabbing a large green milk crate from the closet.
"Medium." John said nervously. The manager grabbed an ugly shirt, matching hisown, and threw it at John, who caught it in surprise.
"Uniform, wear that when you get here." the manager insisted.
"Yes, of course, of course." John agreed gratefully. Even though the managementin this establishment seemed to be lacking, John was ever so happy to get ajob, at least for now.
"Yes well, off you go, I've got to make a call." He insisted, shooing John awayfrom the office in a hurry.
"Alright well, yes, I've got to get something first." John decided.
"From my office?" the manager wondered. John looked at him in curiosity, butshook his head.
"From the store." John clarified.
"Then get out, I need to make a call." He repeated. John nodded, thanking himonce more before slipping out of the office and closing the door. As soon asthe door shut John smiled, looking at his uniform proudly and making his waydown the flower aisle. Not only was this the day of his interview, it was alsohis second date. He went over to the little flower stand in the store, wherethere were sad little bouquets for sale with ugly ribbon around them and sadlooking ladies sitting at the desk.
"Hello sir, looking for flowers for a special lady?" one of them asked, lookinghappy to see a customer.
"Well um, not exactly, do you have flowers that are really nice, thoughtful? Ineed to impress a gardener." John asked with a bit of a sad sigh.
"A gardener huh? I'd stick with balloons then, they're a picky bunch." The ladydecided.
"A gardener, I know a gardener, at least I've seen one around here a couple oftimes. You don't happen to be going on a date with that one?" asked a girl fromthe back, looking about John's age with dark black hair. She rolled her wheeliechair up to the front, looking at John curiously while plucking the leaves offof a rose stem.
"Depends, what does this gardener look like?" John wondered, not really wantingto disclose his date's identity just yet.
"Oh um...dark hair, curly, tall, gay?" she guessed, looking at John at bitaccusingly.
"Yep, that's him." John agreed with a proud smile.
"Lucky man." The girl muttered.
"Is he the one that comes in here sometimes and criticizes the flowerdisplays?" the other woman wondered.
"That sounds like him." John agreed.
"Stick with balloons kid." The first one suggested, and the second hummed inagreement. John sighed, looking at the balloon display kind of lamely, but nodding.
"Ya, he'll probably get me flowers that will make whatever you've got here looklike weeds. No offense." John added guiltily.
"It's fine, we dip them in chemicals to make them bright." The lady assured,and John nodded, not quite sure why he needed to know that. So he walked overto the balloon display and bought a heart balloon with a weight on the end,carrying it out to his car and checking his watch. He had just enough time toget back and get ready; hopefully he could beat Sherlock there. He wasn't surewhat he was expected to wear, but assuming Sherlock was going to be wearing hisusual formal attire he had to go for at least semi-formal. So button up it was,but with kakis instead of dress pants, he didn't want to look too formal. Whenhe got home he went straight up to his room, throwing the uniform on the bedand digging out another button down shirt that he thought Sherlock mightappreciate. Thankfully he didn't have to work terribly hard today to getSherlock to like him, considering they proved to be a very good match already. Theballoon was sitting on his dresser, the obnoxious red plastic bouncing off ofhis ceiling as the air conditioner blew it around. Finally when John was justabout ready the doorbell rang, just in time too. John walked down the stairswith the balloon, taking a deep breath and checking his reflection in thewindow pane of the door as he pulled it open.

    "Hello!" Molly said excitedly, carrying two large tote bags, one in each arm.
"Molly, sorry, the babysitter, I forgot." John admitted, stepping aside and scanning the area for any sign of Sherlock. No truck, so that's not a good sign. It wasn't like Sherlock to be late.
"A balloon huh? How manly." Molly teased, observing the little heart balloon as it floated around innocently.
"Ya well, he's a bit childish." John decided, and Molly shrugged in agreement.
"You look fancy." She observed, walking into the house and dropping her bags next to the couch. Hamish was sitting at the counter, eating from a bag of pretzels as he watched TV from afar.
"Hello Hamish!" Molly said happily.
"Hey Molly, where's Mrs. Hudson?" Hamish wondered. Molly looked at John with a puzzled look; as if not aware she was supposed to bring Mrs. Hudson along.
"She's not coming; I got Molly to babysit instead." John explained, satisfying both of the confused people in the room.
"Is that balloon for Mr. Sherlock?" Hamish wondered, curling up the bag of pretzels and leaping from his stool.
"Ya, it is, the ladies at the store told me not to bother with flowers." John shrugged.
"Definitely a good idea, I feel like that would be nothing but insulting to someone like him." Molly agreed.
"When is he supposed to show up?" Hamish wondered, stretching his little neck to see the clock on the stove.
"Any minute, in fact, he's late." John admitted with a sigh.
"That's very un-Sherlock." Molly decided, looking at the door as if expecting Sherlock to walk through it at that very moment.
"Oh well, probably fashionably late, I'm sure he'll be fine." John decided. And, for the first time in a while, John was right. Almost as soon as he said that the doorbell rang, and John ran over with the balloon bouncing around on the walls behind him.