Summary: John makes a bet with a co-worker. If he wins, she shuts up about him and Sherlock being a couple. If he loses... well, that doesn't matter, because he won't lose. Because he and Sherlock ARE NOT a couple. Right?
Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock. I'm just borrowing the characters... forever...
A/N: I'd just like to take the time to thank the John to my Sherlock, the super awesome, the most wonderful, basically the most flawless human being ever, the one who put up with editing this... IVY-CHAAAAAAN. (aka omgatiss). Praise her. Love her. She's amazing. That is all for now.
Bored, bored, bored, bored, bored, BORED.
Good lord, what do people DO with themselves at a time like this? Sherlock wondered as he paced the flat.
Well, by 'pace', he was just stepping over the gigantic piles of paper that had accumulated since John had gone off on his "vacation".
Maybe he could use his time to clean up the flat a bit.
...No. I'm trying to RELIEVE my sense of boredom. Not give it an environment in which it can more easily reproduce.
Sherlock collapsed on the couch with a long, dramatic sigh. He was actually quite impressed with the level of dramatization exerted there; pity no one was around to witness it.
He closed his eyes and fumed for what seemed like eternity.
At least, he thought it had been eternity.
According to the clock, only three minutes had passed. To hell with the clock.
Bored bored bored.
Finally, he grabbed his phone.
Come back. I'm bored.
John rolled his eyes. Of course Sherlock would be bored. John had only been gone for two days and he'd be back in another three, but God forbid that Sherlock didn't have anyone in the immediate vicinity to belittle or mock during that time period.
He typed back a quick response.
Please, please tell me that the wall isn't paying the price again.
John put his phone in his pocket, thinking that Sherlock would be his usual aloof self and take three hours to respond.
He was wrong.
The reply was almost immediate.
How's your trip going? Boring, I hope.
Leave it to Sherlock to completely avoid the subject. That's not suspicious at all.
You never answered my question.
You never asked one. But I did, and you aren't answering it.
I'm actually having a lot of fun.
With Amanda? Highly improbable.
John sighed. Sherlock and his damn deductions.
Do you have something against Amanda?
No, not at all. I just find it highly offending that you would find enjoyment in spending time with someone of lesser intelligence than yourself. I always thought you could do better than her.
I'm obviously of lesser intelligence than you, but you still spend time with me.
Oh course it was. Silly John.
He wasn't quite so sure, though. About Amanda being of lesser intelligence than him.
Because at the moment, he seemed to be losing their bet. Badly.
John was in Ireland on leave, yes. And Amanda was with him. Along with about four hundred other doctors from England alone. More from Ireland, Scotland and even a few from France, Spain, Germany and a few other places. It was a convention, not a vacation.
But Amanda had this... idea in her head. She was simply convinced that he an Sherlock were... well... together.
Whenever they were on their shift together and Sherlock showed up, he always let out a big sigh because he knew Amanda would say something later.
"So, I ask you to get a blood sample from one of my patients and you're 'busy', but Sherly comes around and you drop everything? Not a couple. Riiiiiight."
And she would say it with that God. Damn. Smirk on her face. Like she knew something he didn't! He knew it was all in good fun, but he wanted to show her once and for all that he was not gay, not in any relationship, and certainly not any combination thereof with Sherlock Holmes.
"Betcha he'll go craaaazy without you during the trip next month," she said. She brought a hand to her forehead dramatically and feigned fainting. "'Oh, John! Why did you have to go? What will I ever do without you? I need you, John!'" She mocked.
"Sometimes I leave and he doesn't even notice," John said, rolling his eyes. "Plus, it's business. He'll understand. He certainly wouldn't say any of that."
She got this inquisitive look on her face. "Have you told him about it yet?"
And that's when the bet had been made. He'd tell Sherlock that he was going on a five day trip to Ireland with his new girlfriend. And no one else.
John said that he'd react the same way he would have if John had said he was going to a convention.
Amanda said he wouldn't even last the week before he became a pathetic mess of neediness. Well, not exactly in those words.
But John accepted anyway, because yeah right, like that would EVER happen.
And it was starting. By god, only two days in and it was already starting. John was going to lose.
Couldn't he convince anyone that he an Sherlock weren't a couple?
John. Answer me. I'm bored and it's all your fault. This is the least you can do for me.
John sighed. Evidently not.
John, we don't have anymore food left. How do you work the supermarket?
Do they deliver?
John, you aren't answering me. I need your help.
Why is there an entire aisle devoted to green leafy things?
Which kind do I buy?
Sherlock, I'm busy at the moment!
Tell Amanda to piss off. I'm more important, and I need your help.
Ask an employee for God's sake! That's what they're paid to do! I am legitimately busy right now, Sherlock!
Oh, really? Doing what?
Do you really want me to answer that?
Oh, God no. But I stand to reason that I should STILL take precedence.
Oh yeah? And why is that, Sherlock?
Because, judging by the way you two acted when she came to pick you up for the airport, she won't be in the picture for more than two more weeks. I, on the other hand, will be in the picture at the end of two weeks. Unless I don't get food, in which case, I won't be.
Two more days, Sherlock. Get some frozen meals that will last you through Two. More. Days. I will do the shopping when I get back. You will survive until then.
Unless boredom kills me first.
Don't be such a drama queen.
Why shouldn't I?
John didn't respond to that one. "Because then I'll lose!" didn't really seem like an acceptable answer.
Are you coming back today or tomorrow?
Can't you come back today?
Why would I do that?
Because I seriously might die of boredom.
This is a serious medical emergency, John.
You're a doctor. It would be wrong of you to ignore me in my time of need.
It would go against that silly oath you took.
Sherlock, I'm coming home tomorrow. Can't you find a case or something in the meantime?
That would require getting off of the couch. Which I'm too weak to do, BECAUSE I'M DYING, JOHN.
Please feel free to picture me giving you my best disapproving face right now.
To John's intense surprise, Sherlock didn't bother to reply. Perhaps he had taken John's advice and went out to find a case.
He sincerely hoped so.
He couldn't afford to be any further in this hole than he already was.
At this rate, there was such a slim possibility of him winning this bet that it could only be seen under a microscope. A really, really powerful microscope.
Think, Sherlock, think.
Must find a way to not be bored.
Must. Not. Be. Bored.
Sherlock could only think of one possible way to make his boredom subside.
John decided to go out with lunch with Amanda.
Well, actually, Amanda had dragged him to lunch in order to discuss their 'arrangement'.
But John didn't really want to think about that at the moment.
They made some small talk as they ordered their food and ate. John thought that he might actually get off the hook this time.
No such luck.
"Sooo...," Amanda started. John very nearly cringed. "How's Sherlock holding out?"
"Fine," he managed to get out. Hardly convincing. "He's doing just fine without me there."
She smirked. "Really? Is that so?"
"Yes," he said, with more conviction this time.
"Hmm," she mused as she wiped her face with her napkin and then placed it on her empty plate. "You do remember that you agreed to let me read the text conversations between you and him that happened during this week, right?"
John didn't respond at first.
"I could just delete them, you know."
"You wouldn't do that, though," she said. "You're too honorable."
"But I could."
"But you won't. If you did that, then I'd know I won anyway."
"But if I did, you wouldn't know it."
"Oh, trust me." That damn smirk again! "I'd know."
John eyed her skeptically for a moment or two.
"You know what, it doesn't even matter!" he finally said. Last resort. "Whether I win or lose, it doesn't change the fact that we aren't actually together."
She leaned back in her chair. "Whatever you say..."
Why the hell was she so self-assured? She's normally on some level between 'assuming' and 'complacent', but this was just... almost like complete knowledge of something he didn't. No, it was EXACTLY like complete knowledge of what he didn't.
These thoughts must have been clearly etched onto his face, because Amanda just grinned some more.
"What's got you so giddy?" he finally asked.
"He's walked by this café three times."
"You heard me. Three times, phone in hand. Back and forth." She pointed to the sidewalk only visible from her perspective. John had to twist to see what she was looking at. "You should put him out of his misery and just run out to greet him during his next run by."
Her smirk at this point was almost obnoxious.
But he rolled his eyes and did just that. Amanda followed closely behind – there was no way she'd pass up the chance to see this play out.
John exited the shop at the same moment a distracted Sherlock walked by. They bumped into each other, and John could swear he heard Amanda giggle a little bit.
"Ah, there you are. Hello, John." And slightly less friendly, "Amanda."
"Sherlock, what are you doing here?" he nearly hissed. "Please tell me this was for a case. Please."
"What? Oh, no." John gave up. There was no way he was winning now. Absolutely no way. "I was bored, so I told Lestrade that your life was in grave danger so he'd give me the coordinates of your cell phone."
John messaged his temple with his thumb and forefinger. "Let me get this straight. You came... all the way to Ireland."
"To see me."
"Because you were bored."
John didn't even bother fighting back. He pulled out his wallet and dug out a fifty pound note. He handed it over to Amanda, who accepted it with a smug grin on her face.
Sherlock looked from John to Amanda, mildly confused. "What was that for? I don't understand."
Amanda started to explain.
When she ended with "...therefore, you are a couple," all John wanted was for the ground to swallow him up whole.
Why? He kind of believed her.
Me: Reviewers get cake!
Mycroft: *nod of approval*