Chapter Text
John's eyes were drooping as he leaned over his book, trying to keep his head up. He had been studying verb conjugation for two hours now and he was still struggling with them -- there were so many different endings! And the spellings -- he was never going to get a hang of the spellings. He needed to make flash cards, but if he stayed in his room, he was never going to get through it. It was dimly lit, and his cozy bed was calling out for him louder than his brain could focus. He needed to go somewhere else. He shook himself awake and packed up his supplies.
The library would be closed at this hour, and he knew sitting in a restaurant would be useless. He would want to eat and then he would be stuffed and happy and even more likely to doze off. He tried to think of an alternative when he passed a flier for a new coffee shop. He moved closer to study it, taking the address down. The most important detail? It was open all night. It wasn't long before he found it. It was brightly lit and surely full of so much caffeine. He went inside, looking up at the little bell as it clanged against the door. The place was completely empty.
He went up to the counter and looked up at the menu, his mouth slackening a bit. Were these even proper drinks? All of the names were . . . odd. He looked around for an employee. "Hello?" he called out.
Sherlock came out from the back room where he'd been smoking. He didn't care that his brother had told him not to smoke inside. He was supposed to be acting normally, and smoking is what Sherlock normally did. There hadn't been anyone in the entire time he'd been there, and he'd already finished reading the book he brought with him. Surely this whole experiment -- Sherlock getting a normal job to act normally with normal people -- was an utter failure, and he hoped it wouldn't last much longer. He moved over to the counter and saw a man sitting there. He was handsome but looked terrible, exhausted and close to defeat. Given the time, the location of the coffee shop, and the man's appearance, it was clear that he was a desperate medical student here out of need.
"What do you want?" Sherlock asked.
"Um . . ." John startled and took in his appearance. He was holding a cigarette and he looked really annoyed. John shook his head to clear it. None of that mattered. "Can I get a large strong coffee?"
"Probably," Sherlock said. He took a long drag off his cigarette and stumped it in the sink. He reached around for the first mug he could find and filled it, setting it down in front of the man. "This may or may not be a large, but if you need more, just tell me and I'll refill it for you. It is, however, definitely strong."
"Uh . . . great," John said, taking out his wallet. "How much?"
"Five pounds or two pounds or it's on the house, I really don't care," Sherlock said.
John blinked at him, then looked up on the menu board to find plain coffee and get the price. But it wasn't up there. At least, not with a name he recognised. He took out two pounds and slid it across the counter. "Can I have some milk?"
"Milk's an extra ten quid," Sherlock said, sliding the coin into his pocket.
"What?" John asked. "Never mind then." He took his mug and went to a table in the back, a bigger one meant for a few people. He took out his book, his notebook and his note cards, taking a big sip of the black coffee. He winced -- it was really strong. He got to work, feeling better already than he had in his room.
Sherlock watched the man move and spread out over a table. He grabbed the milk and followed him. "I was joking about the milk," he said, setting it down. "But there is a large table charge -- this table could seat six and you're using it for one so I'm losing money here." He didn't walk away. This was the most interesting thing that had happened since he'd got in.
John looked up. "There's no one else here," he said.
"At the moment, yes, perhaps that's true, but who knows what will happen in the next minute? A whole crowd of people might rush in here and you're taking valuable space away from them. You'll see," Sherlock said, turning and staring at the door. He waited a full minute and, of course, no one appeared. "Still," he said, turning back to the man. "You get my point."
John watched the door with him and when no one came, he looked at the man with a small amused smile. "Well, how about I only pay the fee of someone comes in and is bothered?"
"All right," Sherlock said, sitting down at the table with the man. "How are we going to figure out whether or not they're bothered? Should we whip up some kind of survey to gather their opinions?"
"Well, let's figure that out when they come in," John said. "I have a lot of flash cards to make so . . . " He trailed off and watched him.
"Yes, I see that," Sherlock said, fiddling with the cards. "What's all this about then?"
"Well, blank cards at the moment," he smiled. "I'm studying Greek. Attempting to, anyway."
"Why's that then? You in politics? Thinking of running for the Greek presidency?" Sherlock said, still moving the cards around the table. "I don't think that's a good idea -- their economy's a mess. . ."
"I'm studying medicine," he said. "The root words are all Greek, well, mostly. It sparked my interest, I thought it might be easier if I learned it."
"I see," Sherlock said. "And why exactly are you studying medicine? And please do not say it's to help people."
"But that's the truth," John said. He plucked the cards from the man's fingers and started writing on them.
"Sure, of course," Sherlock said. "How's your coffee? Need a top up?"
"Um, I've still got half," he said. "Is there an extra charge for a refill?"
"The second one is just 2p," Sherlock said, standing up with the mug. "I'll add it to your slate." He returned quickly. "I put some bubble gum flavouring in it."
"Bubble gum?" he asked, wrinkling his nose. He added a bit of milk. "I hope you didn't." He took a careful sip and smiled softly. Then he got back to work, glancing at the man since he continued to sit there.
"Just a joke," Sherlock said. "So . . . what do you want to talk about ?"
"I . . . look, I appreciate the company, really. I just . . . I have a lot of work to get through," John said.
"Oh, sorry," Sherlock said. He immediately stood up and moved behind the counter. He lit a cigarette and leaned over a bit, staring over at the man.
John worked quietly for about ten minutes, moving through the flashcards quickly enough. He glanced up. "You shouldn't smoke," he said.
"I thought you were too busy to talk," Sherlock said. He took out another cigarette to light, just to spite the guy.
John rolled his eyes and went back to his note cards. He was almost done. This would make things a lot easier.
Eventually, Sherlock shouted over to the guy again. "Are you done then? Does this mean you want to talk to me now or are you just going to leave?"
John was flipping through his finished flashcards when the man called out again. His class was late in the morning and a few more minutes wouldn't kill him. "I have a few minutes," he said as he started packing up slowly.
"Well, I'm too busy to talk now," Sherlock said.
"Oh. Alright," John said, standing as he packed the rest of his things away. He doubted that was true, and a part of him thought to bother him on purpose now like he had while John tried to work. But then he hadn't really been a bother.
When the man got his coat on, Sherlock called to him. "Here -- you forgot your complimentary takeaway coffee," he said, holding up a paper cup. "It'd be rude not to take it."
"Oh," John said, flushing lightly. That was nice. "Um, thanks." He took the cup and looked over at the man. "Is the table fee on my tab, then?"
"It is," Sherlock said, grabbing a piece of paper sitting near the till and scribbling on it. "It comes to a total of ninety-six pounds fifty. Let's call it an even hundred . . . with your tip." He held out his hand.
John smiled. "A tab is something you accumulate and pay later," he said. He raised his cup as he backed out of the door. "Good night," he called back over his shoulder.
Sherlock smiled as he watched the man leave.
John walked back to his room but didn't drink the new coffee. He had enough caffeine and didn't want to be up all night. He set the cup on his desk and unpacked his bag to get the flashcards, catching the word written on the cup. For a wild moment he thought it was the man's number. Then he squinted because it looked like gibberish. No, not gibberish. Greek! He lifted the cup and looked at the word more closely. Βαρετο. John got out his dictionary and studied the letters. He sounded the word out, then went to the correct page in the dictionary and scrolled through carefully. When he found it, he was confused.
Boring.
What did that boy think was boring? His job? John? John's homework? He closed the dictionary and set it next to the cup. Next time he went back he was going to have to ask.