Fait Accompli

   “Do you know how pretentious you sound right now?” I asked him. My voice was part disbelief, part mockery.

            He gave me a dismissive look before returning to argue his point. “I’m just saying that Shakespeare only got popular because the public liked him, not because he was any good.”

            “He was, though. How much of his stuff have you read?”

            “A decent amount.”

            “Take Othello. Iago is such an amazing character. Who else could write someone as diabolical but dimensional? He obviously had some talent.”

            “But what about all of those dirty jokes he makes in the plays?”

            “Just because it’s crass doesn’t mean it’s not any good.”

            “No, but if it’s good then you shouldn’t have to rely on dirty humor to appeal and make an audience.”

            “Whatever you say.”

            He stopped and returned to his homework. He didn’t say anything. I could see a small, smug smile on the corners of his lips. He won and he liked it.

            We had only been friends for a few months, but we established a clear rapport. I was the grounded honest one, and he was the pretentious, sarcastic one. I was calm and humble, and he was so ready to prove his superiority. I had to knock him down a couple of pegs sometimes, or else he would be completely unbearable.

            I started to read my Holmes again as my friend scribbled away in silence. I smiled at Holmes and Watson. It seems John had to teach Sherlock a few things about civility, too.

            I looked back at my friend and studied him. He was a genuinely good-looking guy, tall and curly-haired. It was always nice to look at him, even when we were arguing. I wondered if John ever looked at Sherlock and smiled, exasperated but amazed by their strange friendship.

             I had concocted in my mind at the time that we were like Sherlock and John, not the smart, cool intellectual and the bumbling oaf, but the smartass and the likeable colleague. It was probably the oddest fantasy pairing a girl could align her crush with, but it made sense to me. We weren’t some lovers separated by time or circumstances, but friends and complements. And that seemed far more appealing than any star-crossed love story.

            “Stop staring at me.”

            I was pulled back into reality by the snap of his voice. It was blunt and casual, no tenderness or sweetness. I swallowed and blushed, returning to Sherlock and John.

            “Cut out the poetry, Watson,” said Holmes severely.

            How fitting. I sighed.