John Watson must've been in front of that full-length mirror of his bedroom for hours, fussing with the buttons of his freshly ironed white shirt. He grumbled under his breath as he repeatedly fastened and unfastened each one as nerves were slowly getting the better of him.
On his dresser, his cell phone screen still glowed with the message from his date, Amy Pond, he'd must've read it at least twenty times each time beaming even more. It was just a simple text, "Can't wait to meet you," but yet it always managed to set off another flutter of anxious butterflies in his stomach, it was a strange but welcomed feeling he'd never thought he'd feel again.
It had been a year since Mary's death, the worst year ever of his life! He still remembered and deeply regrated those early months when he'd nearly severed ties with his friend, Sherlock, mainly out of anger and grief. It was just too hard to cope with the pain or the reality of life without her. But therapy somehow helped him rebuild the remaining fragments of himself, helping him find closure. And now, here he was, preparing for his first date in over a year, it still baffled him at times.
He grinned remembering how he met Amy on Tinder, a beautiful tall Scottish red haired girl, intelligent, grounded, with a sparkling laugh that just made him smile with every phone call. Like him, she was a writer, she also loved traveling and reading. And she actually laughed at his cringy jokes! She was perfect!
Tilting his head side to side, John examined every angle of his reflection, frowning. The shirt wore snugly over his shoulders, his hair still damp that he spent forever getting just right!
John nodded satisfied.
"Not bad," he murmured, although his fingers still fiddled at the buttons. Tonight, really mattered. He wanted the first impression to be... natural but genuine and of course, charming.
He stepped back and practiced a few greeting gestures in the mirror. "Good evening, Amy," He said, flashing a polite smile before grimacing. "Too formal." He muttered adjusting his posture and placing his hands casually in his pockets.
"Amy," he tried, grinning. "You look lovely tonight." That sounded better except for the voice crack, making him wince.
He sighed heavily, "Brilliant, very smooth, John. How about we try it minus the voice crack, hmm?" He muttered.
Suddenly, Sherlock's voice echoed from the living room, "John, I was wonder…" He began, only to abruptly stop, voice trailing as he entered. With his Violin tucked under his arm, he surveyed the semi-chaotic display of discarded ties strewn across the bed, shirts flung over the bedstead and socks abandoned on the floor like casualties.
Sherlock's brow lifted suspiciously.
"Apparently, I'm interrupting a ritual of some sort, yeah?" He asked dryly looking around.
John spun around, sheepishly, attempting to speak while acting nonchalant despite his cheeks turning different shades of pink.
"I… I was just getting ready for my date with Amy. That lovely author I met on Tinder, I told you about her." He said.
Sherlock nodded, suppressing a smirk.
"Ah! That explains the obvious anxiety and the unmistakable scent of nerves, masked poorly by that god-awful cologne, Anderson gave you last Christmas." He remarked.
John folded his arms, blinking at him slightly offended.
"I actually happen to like this cologne and so did Amy." He noted.
Sherlock just leaned against the door frame, inspecting it before frowning.
"And you met her on Tinder, huh?" He questioned.
John frowned.
"Yes, what's wrong with that?"
He shook his head.
"Nothing, I'm just surprised society still recognize that pathetic thing as a precious tool for romance." Sherlock commented.
John sighed, running a hand through his hair.
"Yes, shocking, isn't it Sherlock, that some of us actually enjoy finding connections with real humans," He mocked. "Amazing how we love the dinners, laughter, pleasant conversation, you know, things normal people do." He scoffed at his friend. "Why don't you get to know that new neighbor, Clara," John suggested. "Amy says she's real nice." He said.
Sherlock rolled his eyes.
"Please, I already had the dismay of meeting her," He muttered. "She had the nerve to call 'Science Of Deduction, boring." Sherlock scoffed.
John just cocked his head, slightly in agreement.
Sherlock sighed, clasping his hands, grunting, "Besides dating is boring." He added shrugging.
John gave just him a look.
"Yeah," He replied dryly. "Anyway, while I'm gone, try not to dismantle anything or scare our neighbors, hmm?"
Sherlock scowled.
"Great, another boring night," He grunted before retreating to his study, soon the hum of violin notes drifted from down the hallway.
John then turned back to his reflection, reaching for his brown suit jacket draped across the mirror. Slipping it on, he paused, his gaze spotting the photo of Mary resting on the dresser, her wide smile and sparkling eyes bringing back memories. He slowly stepped closer, lovingly brushing his finger across the glass as if instilling the memory of her smile in his mind.
John sighed.
"Wish me luck, love," He whispered to the photo.
John straightened his jacket, exhaling before walking out of the room, letting the door click softly behind him. Outside, the chill of the evening breeze greeted him as he stepped into the night, his heart thudding quietly but he smiled feeling hopeful about tonight.
"Here's to new beginnings," He murmured before walking down the street.
Meanwhile, Amy was barefoot in the center of her cluttered bedroom apartment with her light pink robe and her wet hair still wrapped in a towel and running late! She scavenged through her closet searching for that perfect outfit for her date, pulling out several outfits including a lavender blouse before quickly placing it back, too posh, she frowned.
After several outfit attempts, she finally settled on a simple but elegant black strap dress with a short purple jacket.
Suddenly, her cell phone chimed with a new message. She glanced at from the vanity, slightly sighing. It was another text from her friend, Clara, still trying to find out more about her date, "Still dying for more details," Clara begged. "At least, tell me he's if he's rich or not some quirky weirdo."
Amy just rolled her eyes and continued putting on her makeup. But a second later another message popped up, it was Clara, again, "At least text me if he shows up in camouflage and a mullet or a prince in disguise."
Amy smirked. Her friend had been watching way too many Hallmark films.
She picked up her phone texting back, "If you must know, John is just a gentle, sweet former army doctor with piercing blue, grey eyes and a cute smile and I'll tell you more after the date," Amy texted before finally placing her phone down and continuing getting dressed.
It had been a month since Amy met John on Tinder. Unlike the dozen of typical profiles, John was different, not like the guys with the overly edited gym pics, creepy bios, or the guys who listed "sarcasm" as their greatest personality trait.
John's profile stood out but in the best way, it was just a simple photo of him in a buttoned down shirt and grey sweater and a nervous smile yet, there was something really genuine there that Amy really liked. Maybe it was his smile, or the way he wrote, "Former army doctor, recovering widower looking for love, Loves tea and adores cookies. Can't dance but willing to try." It then ended with a silly smiling emoji which made her giggle and soon she found herself swiping right and everything went from there.
Now, she had to do was not mess up this date! It had been a long time since she'd dated someone, seriously. Ever since the loss of her boyfriend, Rory, it was hard to move on but something about John felt different, even special. He was thoughtful, and though his jokes were kind of cringy, they were still cute. And John never tried too hard, and she liked that. He just felt... real.
She stepped back from the mirror, giving herself a critical once over. Her dress and jacket combo fitting her perfectly, her red hair styled straight but with a slight curl at the ends, and her makeup simple with just eyeliner and pink gloss giving her just enough confidence.
She took one last deep breath.
"Okay, Amy," She coached herself quietly. "It's just a date, he's a nice guy. You're not going to spill wine or say something stupid just relax and have a nice time, everything is going to be fine." She added smiling.
She grabbed her purse and headed toward the door, briefly pausing readying herself before opening it.
As she stepped out onto the city sidewalk, a gentle breeze ruffled her hair. Her heart quickened with the electric thrill of possibility and hope of something new. She took a steady breath and smiled.
"Here we go." Amy whispered feeling confident as she walked along the sidewalk towards the café.'