on their first date
What if the dinner at Angelo’s went differently? All it takes is stepping on a butterfly to change fate. (x)
Tagging @a-candle-for-sherlock @missmuffin221 @ailynerie @shag-me-senseless-watson @very-grumpy-bisexual @love-in-mind-palace @fangirllock @one-thousand-splendid-stars @the-blue-carbuncle (Let me know if you’d like a tag in any future stuff! I might turn this into a series.)
This is as cliché as it could have gotten.
Nestled together beneath delicate lights, the small Italian café soaking warmth into bones chilled by the London air. A table so small, two sets of knees could knock together with just a shift of weight (that is, if either of the knee-owners so inclined). Enough familiarity to settle into the scene with ease, though enough of strangers to still wary of the other. A candle flickering between them.
It’s enough to make you think. To make you wonder.
“You don’t have a girlfriend, then?”
When Sherlock hears you, you never can tell if he’s actually listening. “Girlfriend? No, not really my area.”
“Mm.” John says, and then freezes, the full intent settling in his stomach. Oh. “Oh, right.” A beat. “D’you have a boyfriend?”
Now Sherlock is listening, head immediately snapping to his companion with sharp, appraising eyes. His brow is furrowed. It makes him look boyish and, well, human, a word John has quickly learned not to affiliate with the man. John’s worried he’s actually offended him.
“Which is fine, by the way.”
“I know it’s fine.”