someone else.

[docwithablog]

Title: Someone Else
Canon Point: Post-TGG, pre-SIB. PSL canon.
___________

He invites himself over with a very brief text that just reads we got to talk, are you offering a cuppa? In response to which Sarah sends him a heart and a cup emoji. Leaving Sherlock to sleep it off, he gets on the tube at Marylebone Station, finding himself at her front door half an hour later.

She looks wonderful, hair down and dress decidedly comfortable, thin and floaty, so he assumes she's just got back from work. Work which he's been missing, again, three days straight at this point. If he were her, he'd have fired himself on the spot. She seems to be thinking the same thing, smiling at him with that twinkle in her eye that he has loved from the beginning.

"It's herbal," she says as he sits down at her large kitchen table, pouring him a cup.

"Lovely," he replies, grimacing which makes her laugh.

"It's all you're going to get."

Oh, he's well aware.

"Sarah," he says as she seats herself as well, opposite of him, legs crossed and dress riding up a bit. She looks at him with genuine, expectant interest, though John gets the distinct feeling that she knows what's coming. Maybe she's known for a while, too. She's cleverer than Sherlock gives her credit for.

Then again, so are most people. Not everyone can be a bloody genius.

"John," she answers. He smiles.

"This isn't going to work," he wraps his fingers around his cup, the liquid steaming and warm and positively green, "you're amazing, really, but I've met someone else."

"Someone even more amazing," she concludes, sounding neither surprised nor particularly upset, "is it Sherlock?"

Staring at her for a moment, he licks his bottom lip, recalling vividly the feeling of Sherlock's tongue the previous night -- everywhere, really. He clears his throat. "Yes."

Appearing to consider this information for a couple of seconds, she sips her tea and uncrosses her legs, only to cross them again, her dress riding a little higher for each movement. He follows its progress, mostly by habit. "Okay," she says, voice carefully neutral, "I'm -- not surprised? Even if you didn't strike me as the type."

Raising an eyebrow at her, he purses his lips pointedly, taking a long drink of her awful tea. "It's a sexual orientation, Sarah, not a bloody personality trait."

She laughs again. She really has the best laughter. His lips curve a bit once more as he pushes his mostly drained cup to the side. "I'm sorry," he tells her, quite earnestly, too, "for having wasted your time. I would have done you in a heartbeat, I just ended up doing something else first."

"Someone else," she corrects him and he gives her a look, then smiles.

"Someone else."

They have a very brief chat about his future at the clinic, agreeing that he'll hand in his three weeks notice next time he's in and they'll call it a day. Wouldn't recommend you for clinic work anywhere, she jokes and he kisses her cheek when he leaves.

"I'll find something else to do," he replies.

"Someone else," she corrects him.

He scoffs. I'll never have a worse first date in my life, John, she leaves him with. Neither a more exciting one. Supposedly, that's the story of his life now.

On his way home, he gets stuck in traffic and it takes an hour and a half before he's back at 221B.