John: #3

                                    

                                          
Pairing: John Watson x Reader
Warnings: cute embarrassed John


                          
You slid into a booth at your favorite cafe in London. John was supposed to be meeting you in 10 minutes, so you were a bit early. You were studying the menu when someone sat down across from you. 
                          
You looked up and met familiar warm eyes. 
                          
"Good morning John Watson." You said with a goofy smile on your face.
                          
"Good morning , (y/n)." He smiled back. 
                          
A waitress came over and you both ordered coffee and lunch. While you waited for the food, the two of you caught up. 
                          
You told him about your new job, and about the new cat you adopted.
                          
"She still isn't used to my flat yet, she keeps tearing down my curtains and sleeping in the kitchen sink." You chuckled. 
                          
John laughed, and your food arrived. You ate, and started asking John questions about what he'd been up too. He seemed reluctant to talk about himself, which made you suspicious. 
                          
"Do you still live in 221B?" You asked. 
                          
He nodded, taking a bite of toast. 
                          
"Still in the same place, with the same people. It's cheap for the middle of London, so I imagine I'll be there for a while." 
                          
"Tell me about your flat mate, you hardly ever talk about him. Is he nice?" You were extremely curious as to who John was staying with. You'd heard about Ms. Hudson, but never about his flatmate.  
                          
"There's not much to talk about. He's......fine."
                          
You raised an eyebrow. That's all he had? Fine?
You decided not to push it, instead asking about his job at the doctors office. He was more than happy to talk about that as the two of you finished eating. 
                          
You were debating on desert when someone else slid into the booth beside John, squishing him in the corner. 
                          
"John! There you are." The stranger yelled, ignoring you. 
                          
You raised an eyebrow and looked to John, who's face had gone white. 
                          
"Sherlock! I'm kind of in the middle of something!" He spluttered, eyes moving from the stranger to you. 
                          
The stranger finally took notice of you, and studied you up and down. 
                          
"Who the bloody hell are you?" 
                          
You were taken aback by his bluntness, and decided to return the favor.
                          
"(Y/N) (Y/L/N) and who the bloody hell are you?"
                          
"Sherlock Holmes, John's flat mate and best-"
                          
"That's enough, Sherlock!" John cut in, visibly flustered. "Leave us alone, won't you? I'll be back later." 
                          
A smile crept onto your face as you watched the pair bicker. 
                          
"John, I don't see why you can't just come with me. We have a case."
                          
"Sherlock you can't just come in and expect me to leave! I'll be back later, I can help you then."
                          
It took a few minutes, but John finally convinced Sherlock to leave. As he begrudgingly got up and left, you had a thought that wiped the smile right off your face. 
                          
"Why didn't you want me to meet Sherlock? You two are good friends, aren't you?" 
                          
He nodded slowly. 
                          
"Well, why not then? Are you ashamed of me?" Your voice got quieter and quieter as you spoke.
                          
His eyes widened and he violently shook his head. 
                          
"No, no! That's not it at all!" He paused and took a deep breath. "It's just that's he's smart and interesting and brooding, and I'm just......me." He refused to meet your gaze as he spoke, fumbling with his fingers. 
                          
Your expression changed, a small smile creeping up.
                          
"John Watson, were you afraid I'd like him more than you?" 
                          
He didn't answer, but his red cheeks gave him away. 
                          
"John," you took one of his hands in yours, "I like you very much. No one is going to change that–especially not Sherlock Holmes."
                          
He finally met your gaze and smiled softly. 
                          
"That's relieving. I like you too, a lot." 
                          
You grinned and leaned over the table, giving him a kiss on the cheek. You sat back down and opened the menu again.
                          
"Soooooo, how about some desert?"