The original Ask, apparently long since deleted, was received as part of an 'OTP Ficwar prompt' back when I first joined tumblr about 2013 March. I'm sorry that not only did the Ask get deleted, but apparently I took so long to fill this that the prompter's blog is gone. orz

Originally post to AO3 on 2014-12-24.

John couldn't believe he was going on a blind date. It was like uni all over again: the anxiety (will they like me?), the trepidation (will I like them?), the anticipation (will we end up at my place or theirs?). But Mike was a good friend and John had promised he'd go.

He regretted his promise less than two minutes into stepping in the restaurant. He'd forgotten what it was called shortly after reading the marquis outside, but the atmosphere was pleasant. The problem was that his date ("He said he'll wear his purple shirt and get a seat near the middle along the wall.") was utterly fucking gorgeous. So far out of John's league that they weren't even playing the same sport.

Long, pale fingers drummed an impatient rhythm on the tabletop, clearly waiting for John to arrive. Filled with guilt at having to stand the man up, the ex-soldier turned and limped back to the door, ignoring the curious look from the hostess.

His hand had just curled around the bar when there was the sharp click of a brisk walk from behind him, followed by a deep baritone voice. "John Watson."

His brief pause as he was trying to figure out whether or not he was going to lie seemed to be enough of a confirmation for the other man. "Good. I was beginning to worry I'd deduced wrong."

John turned on his heels and found the other man to be nearly a full head taller than him. Still, men had been taller all his life, and they didn't intimidate John Watson. "Look, Mr Holmes-"

"Sherlock, please."

"Sherlock, it's obvious that this has been a mistake. There's no way someone like you would be interested in me and-" Without warning, a pair of soft lips pressing against his chapped ones startled him into silence.

"Is that sufficient to convince you of my interest, Doctor Watson?" Sherlock asked when he'd pulled away, leaving John dazed. "Or would you prefer 'Captain Watson'?"

Over dinner, John learned all about Sherlock's amazing deduction skills as he whispered people's secrets over plates of French food. Over dessert, he learned about the man's detecting business when their waiter was reduced to attempted murder with a blunt weapon (a gigantic pepper grinder). John had tackled the young man before the solid wood could make a dent in the dark curls and kept the assailant on the floor until a harried-looking silver-haired policeman took him away.

As John lingered by the table while the DI questioned Sherlock, he heard a whispered "Are you on a date?!"

"I was on a case, Lestrade!" Sherlock replied snappily. "It was required."

John couldn't really fault the man. He'd had a more lovely evening than he'd had in months, years, even if it was a sham. While Sherlock and his friend were distracted, John tossed a twenty pound note on the table and slipped away.

He and his damn limp had only made it a block before he heard the rush of someone chasing him. His spine straightened in anticipation of an attack, but when he turned, he found only Sherlock rushing up to him, long coat billowing behind him.

"I'm sorry, did I not put enough on the table?" he asked, reaching for his wallet and feeling anxious for the interaction to just be done already. It was the only reason he could see for Sherlock needing to come after him, but the detective's face just pinched with confusion.

"What? No, it completely unnecessary," Sherlock scoffed, handing John back his note. Even after it changed hands, John could only stare at it in confusion. "The manager provided our meals at no charge in thanks for finding the embezzler that was draining their coffers."

"Oh. Well, ta," was all he could think to say. When a moment passed and nothing further was forthcoming, he broke the silence. "Have a good night," he said, turning to walk away.

"Did you not... enjoy yourself?" Sherlock's quiet question nonetheless traveled through the emptiness of the late night air. John turned with a sigh; did he really have to keep up the illusion?

"Best date I've ever had and I appreciate you making it good for me," John replied, spine almost uncomfortable with the amount of tension keeping it straight. "If you're worried about Mike, I'll tell him it was me."

There was an aggravated sigh from the taller man and then John found himself bestowed with a surprise kiss for the second time that night. "Don't be obtuse, John. I do so hate to repeat myself."

FIN

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