Denise caught on to Sherlock early on. She noticed his symptoms because she had friends who weren't exactly princesses; in other words, she was still in high school.

Denise also caught on to the relationship Jim had with Sherlock, whatever that may be. She noticed he was always there on Jim's break, and they always sat at the same table and ate whatever the shoppe special was.

"How come you never kiss your boyfriend goodbye?"

Jim sputtered and coughed, having choked on the coffee he was drinking. "My what?"

"You call him Sherlock," she smiled.

"Were you eavesdropping?"

"It's sort of hard not to hear things when I'm working right across the way from you."

Jim tossed his coffee into the garbage. It was starting to leave a strange aftertaste on his tongue and in his throat. "He's not my boyfriend." Denise rolled her eyes.

"You can trust me, Jim! Biggest lesbian in the world right 'ere," she pointed dramatically to herself, "I won't judge, you know I won't."

"It's not that you'll judge me, it's that he's definitely not my boyfriend."

"But--"

"Yeah, sure, we fuck sometimes, but that doesn't mean anything."

"TMI, Jim."

"Sorry."

Denise smiled at the customer who had walked through the door, greeting them with a chipper welcome. Jim watched her take the order and make the coffee, a chocolate frappe. He was almost proud of her, she'd only been working there two weeks, and part-time at that.

Sherlock was late that day. He slipped through the door, the bell at the top tinkling sweetly, and just about tiptoed to where Jim was sitting. He looked guilty of something. Jim sat back in his chair, and Sherlock refused to meet his eyes.

"Over here, Sherlock, stop looking at your gloves."

Sherlock winced.

"What's the matter with you?" Jim folded his arms and shot a look at Denise, who was evidently watching. She quickly picked up a rag and started to scrub the already-spotless counter. Jim directed his attention back to Sherlock, waiting.

"I was buying... my stuff."

"Okay. And?"

"A-And?" Sherlock stammered.

"You don't usually act this way when you're late because of that. I'm not even angry about your lateness, by the way, I could care less."

"I was with someone."

Jim chewed his lip. Why was Sherlock so guilty about that? They weren't together, like Jim said, and Sherlock already knew that Jim was a basic psychopath. And still, Sherlock avoided Jim's gaze like a kitten who kicked the litter out of his box.

Sherlock continued to talk when Jim was silent. "He's the guy I buy my dope from. He's clean, I checked."

Jim chuckled. "Did you top?"

"I - what??"

"Did you top him, at least?"

"Oh, we didn't...I just...sort of," Sherlock lowered his voice and mumbled. Jim snorted out another laugh. "That's it? Sherlock, a hand job is literally nothing."

Jim flushed and glanced over to where Denise was supposed to be. Luckily she was in the back grabbing another bottle of syrup or something. 

"Did you do it to save some extra cash?"

"Well, I wanted to buy some food after, and I wouldn't have any money left over from buying the drugs. So, yes, I made a fair trade. And I'm not exactly proud of it, he made strange noises and whistled at me as I left."

Jim, for the second time in under two hours, choked on his coffee. This time, however, he choked because he was laughing. He whistled at Sherlock and grunted suggestively like some sort of Italian mobster, to which Sherlock shot up and covered Jim's mouth.

"There are other people here," he scolded.

"The more the merrier; I hope you washed your hands."

Sherlock relaxed and slid back down into his seat. "Of course I did, don't be ridiculous."