#number 2 box

[meetinginsamarra]

mayprompts2024, #2 box

So, I had this idea yesterday about a funny little "box"-AU.

I supposed it would become a short ficlet (famous last words) only to find out that it has a lot of potential and I have more ideas about what is going to happen.

I already worked over 2 hours today on it (time that I didn't really have in the first place) and it is nowhere from finished. I don't want to stress myself even more and/or rush this, therefore

Behold Part One of

"The Perfect Place"

--------

Sherlock turned up his collar and plucked up his courage.

Taking a deep breath, he plunged into his mind palace and went through every detail of his plan for the very last time before he would put it into action. He recalled stalking the man for two days, very carefully as to not reveal himself, to deduce all there was to be possibly gleaned from all the minutiae he could observe.

Sherlock found no flaw in his plan (of course he didn't, he never would because he himself came up with it). It had to succeed. There would be no second chance. It was now or never.

He entered and a tiny bell chimed above the door, announcing his arrival. Into battle, Sherlock thought.

“I want to buy a boxspring bed.”

+++++

John Watson startled badly in his seat when he heard the bell chime.

He had not been looking at the door since he had been fiddling with his gun for the umpteenth time (there were no rounds in it so it was safe) because it was boring as hell in the shop.

He had brought his illegal service weapon since the fourth day he worked here as a shop assistent, hoping against all hope that some benign person would storm in and try to rob the cash register (no robber worth their salt would even consider doing this) so that finally something fun and exciting would happen to him.

John had kept his hands and the weapon hidden behind the counter and thus out of sight from the potential customers (he was possibly mad but not that mad) and now he quickly shoved it into a drawer.

John stared at the surprise customer who had stumbled into “Bernie’s Bed Shop” and - holy moly - was he a sight to behold.

On a scale from 1 to 10 the man was a certified 11. John was already jealous of the mattress that would get to hug and caress and wrap itself around this sublime body every night. Life was just unfair.

Still, John could barely believe his luck. Finally, a customer who actually (apart from being the most gorgeuos human being John had ever seen) wanted to buy a bed, even one of those ridiculously posh and expensive ones with boxsprings. Also, being the first one asking for a bed in John's three and a half terrible weeks of working (suffering) as a bed shop assistant.

Thankfully, John remembered to plaster his most winning, helpful and customer-friendly smile onto his face (it was in fact not, resembling rather the anguished expression that a trapped animal with one leg stuck in a bear trap would have) and went around the counter to welcome the god. Godsend.

“Then you are in the perfect place. Bernie’s Bed Shop offers a lot of different boxspring beds. My name is John Watson, may I show you some variants or do you already have something special in mind?”

Sherlock blinked at John. Yes, you, he thought. His throat was suddenly dry with John Watson standing so close to him for the very first time. On a scale from dull to brilliant the man was a certified genius. Simply perfect.

“Show me what you have,” Sherlock asked, slightly husky and meaning something totally different. (He meant what was under these terrible grandpa clothes John wore, of course).

Please God, let him buy a bed, John prayed silently, being painfully aware that as a salesperson he had been utterly failing.

So far, he had merely sold a pair of cheap bedsheets to an elderly short-sighted woman and a heart-shaped decorative cushion to a sloshed builder. He had tried his very best every time when a customer had set their foot into the shop, being forthcoming and friendly and polite but somehow, they had all left more or less quickly without buying anything.

John did not know why that happened every time (it was his anguished smile, obviously) but he did know that this was his last chance to score or Bernie would definitely fire him at the end of this week. John would be without a job once again and would soon have to leave London because even the terrible bedsit he lived (existed) in would become unaffordable.

"Follow me then, please." John walked to the back of the shop where the premium beds stood. "May I present you the 'Royal Metropolis Deluxe'. It has every feature a boxspring bed can have that you could possibly imagine."

Just like your deluxe body, John thought.

I have a very vivid imagination, Sherlock thought and ogled John instead of the bed.

+++++

That's it for today!

Flower Shop AU? Coffee Shop AU? Tattoo Shop AU? Nope! All outdated. I felt there is crying need for a Bed Shop AU. 🤣

tagging some people (tagging on desktop seems to work) @calaisreno @totallysilvergirl @raina-at @lisbeth-kk

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