Hello new Fandom. Pleased to make your acquaintance. I am Sarah, and recently I have fallen hard for this series. Stupid, Stupid me. Anyway, this might not be very good but hey, I like the idea of it. JohnLock is so incredible beautiful. NOT THE POINT (yet) IGNORE MY BABBLING, ONTO THE STORY.

P.S. To those of you that plan on reading ANY multi-chapter fic I have, be warned that unless I get hooked, it will be slow, but this is Sherlock. Which I have rewatched 15 times in three weeks so, OPTIMISM. Also, I'm American. Meaning I have no idea what the rules of rugby are in the slightest. Hence, I shall be being extremely vague and probably often false. If one of you happens to know even the basics of the game and feel like helping a dim-wit out, leave it in the review or PM me. THANKS ^.^

P.P.S. I OBVIOUSLY do not own Sherlock; all rights go to BBC and Sir Arthur Conan Doyle and everyone else who has made brilliant Sherlock things.

He thanked the cabbie and passed over the money before climbing out in his rugby gear. It felt funny to have on all the gear again; he hadn't played rugby with his university team since, well university. He only graduated a few months ago, but he was leaving for the military next month, so they had planned to meet up and play one last game together.

"John!" A chorus of deep male voices shouted as John Watson's team mates bound over, all but tackling him as they shouted multiple things at once, making them incomprehensible.

"Hey guys!" John laughed at all his mates, "So are we gonna play or what?" he grinned.

Within five minutes, they had raced to where they were going to play and split themselves into teams. They had settled to go to a park that was the closest to being in the middle of all of their flats/houses and had a space big enough to play rugby. Since everyone beat him there, John was surprised to see that everything was already in place, so getting ready wasn't all that hard. They weren't playing for teams or really following every rule, they were playing how freshman high schoolers would play if they had never played before. Breaking rules, laughing, making fun of each other, and just having a good time trying to beat each other at the game they'd played for years. John couldn't imagine a better way to spend his time before going to service.

About half-way through the game, John had hardly broken a sweat. He always had a lot of fun being with his team. Most of his friends had swapped out and were taking breaks to calm down, but he still felt he could play until the sun set. For some reason he took notice of a tall boy, about his age, sitting in a bench off to the side. He'd been there the entire time, originally though, he was reading. Now the boy had set his book aside and was looking at John intently, almost curiously, but not quite. He had some sort of feeling about him, some aura or something that made him seem dark and mysterious. A long dark coat and deep blue scarf just helped play into this aura. The mop of dark curls on his head seemed to bounce to life excitedly even if the boy had yet to move, seeming to argue with the boy's demeanor. Suddenly John met the boy's eyes, they shined a shocking blue and for some reason John could not pull his eyes away. He didn't know how long he had been staring when a ball hit him in the head, knocking him out of his daze.

"Oi! John! Come back to Earth!" Greg laughed at him from across the field.

He shook his head and grinned, "Sorry! Was just thinking."

"Really now? Because it looked more like you were checking someone out," Someone said from behind him. John audibly groaned.

"What do you want Sally? We're playing a game here," He said obviously annoyed with the girl.

She shrugged, "I live across the street if you remember, was just on a walk and I realized you were looking at the freak over there. I'd stay away from him if I were you," she warned quietly before beginning to walk away, but John was intrigued.

"Daniel! Take my spot for a minute?" John shouted at the row of guys sitting off to the side before running after Sally. The boys all shrugged and continued to play, knowing John would be back soon, he could only handle so much of Sally before getting pissed. "What do you mean freak? And why shouldn't I talk to him?" John questioned, sounding defensive. His own voice confused him; he didn't even know the guy's name, why was he so offended for someone he knew so little about?

She sighed, "Your loyalty is getting to an extreme point here John, and you don't even know his name."

"Answer the question."

"He's a freak. He knows a bunch of things he shouldn't and is a bloody psychopath! You may dislike me, but you're already leaving Molly to go to Afghanistan, what would she do if you got yourself in jail or even killed because of some stranger and your idiocy?"

"Molly is just my friend and you know that, plus I'm fairly certain I'm smart enough to not get myself killed."

She scoffed in reply, "No one can escape a psychopath, and he might even kill Sarah."

He winced and resisted slapping her, his mother still raised a gentleman, so instead, he just glared and clenched his fists. His clamped shut to be sure he didn't call her a 'bitch', 'whore', or whatever else came to mind. So he decided in spur the moment to do the only thing he could think of to piss her off, which was to march over to the bench where the odd boy was sitting and sit down next to him. John was still fuming when the boy finally looked at him with a blank expression. John noticed it looked like he wanted to say something but was holding back.

"If you don't want me sitting here I can move," He said almost hesitantly. The boy shook his head silently. "Well then whatever it is that you want to say, say it."

His eyebrows flicked up for a moment, but his face went back to being blank so quickly that John thought he must've imagined it. "You're John Watson. You play rugby but you don't do it for any reason, simply because you like, which is odd for someone of your standing. You're moving soon, I'd guess in 3 or 4 weeks, so this will likely be the last time you get to play with your old university team. You have an overprotective mother that you moved back in with after university because you've known you would be moving far away a few months after you graduated, so why waste the money. You're probably moving to extremely far away considering you're mother has been so attached, so you're probably also going with a friend. You also have an older sister who's hiding multiple secrets from your mother; most likely she's lesbian and an alcoholic. She's also been worried about your move for some reason so the friend you're moving with probably is new and hardly acquainted with your family. Your father has been absent since you were 8 and since then you've been the man of the house. You're also worried about the move so maybe you're having second thoughts. You aren't friends with Donovan but you are with Lestrade and I'm guessing somewhat with Anderson, or not since you just flinched, so just Lestrade. You're very loyal and sacrifice being with people you dislike just to please other people."

His mouth dropped with an audible pop, "How- What- I- That was bloody brilliant!" The shocked expression on John's face broke into a grin. The boy looked shocked for a minute there, and John knew he didn't imagine it, "What?"

"It's just… people don't tend to react like that, especially people like you," The boy slowly regained his composure.

"What do they normally do?"

"A few things, there's the classic punch to the face, the crying girl, and of course, simply tell me to piss off."

John couldn't help but chuckle, "So how did you figure all that out anyway?"

The boy's lip twitched up slightly in the corner, and so he began his explanation, "Well your name was fairly easy, considering your uniform says Watson and everyone has been very loudly calling you John. Then I knew you play just for the love of playing because you cared very little about the rules of the game, where some others quickly got annoyed at the child-like play. You must be moving because all of your team was very enthusiastic to see you, as if they might not see you again. Then the mother. Before you started playing, you pulled out your phone and set the volume as loud as it would allow, inferring you wanted to avoid missing a call. Considering that if you had any sort of serious girlfriend, you would have some gift from her, which you don't, and any other person that needed to contact you wasn't that important if they weren't already here, so, mother. She's obviously been more attached then normal recently seeing as there's still a slight lipstick stain on your cheek, and we've previously established that you're unattached so it was obviously your mother. Your sister has also been worried since you smell of cologne, not strong enough to be too noticeable but enough that it rubbed off of her onto you when she hugged you. You might also wear some sort of cologne but considering you were coming here to play a sport and spend time with guys, I highly doubt that was on your list of things to do. She is obviously lesbian if she is wearing male cologne, I know it's not a brother because you have two different types of long hair on your shoulders from both her and your mother. She's obviously an alcoholic considering I can also smell vodka on you, but it's just as faint as the cologne and I once again doubt you'd drink before coming to play rugby. You hold yourself to a high stature as if you've been in the military, but you obviously haven't so you grew up without another man figure to lead you. You're second guessing the move because you obviously don't want to leave your friends. You obviously aren't friends with Donovan based on that groan you made when she walked over."

John's mouth had been hanging open for a while, and the boy smirked at his face, "I'm not second guessing it…"

"Sure you aren't," the boy rolled his eyes.

"What's your name?"

"I'm Sherlock Holmes"

The two young men continued to talk for a while, eventually swapping phone numbers in case they decided they wanted to converse or something of the sort. Once the day was over, Sherlock ended up taking the same cab as John but got out before him, meaning John was left to pay; which he honestly didn't mind much.

A few days later, on a Sunday, John woke up before anyone else on his whole block and, after he got dressed, left for a walk. Within ten minutes he arrived exactly where he had planned, a small family run coffee shop linked to a petite little book store. People often came in and out of the coffee shop hurriedly throughout the day, so John had found the one time he could go without many others. He didn't quite understand why it was open at 3:00 in the morning, but it was his own little sanctuary. Leisurely, he ordered his usual drink (fresh, hot, green tea) and picked out a book. John then strolled to a small table meant for two in the corner of his shop and pulled his laptop out from his bag.

As his laptop loaded, he sipped his tea and thought for a bit. In about three weeks, he would be leaving. The thought of never returning really didn't come to his mind, though other things made him feel very conflicted. He was nervous and scared that he would get there and someone would need him, and he would forget everything he'd ever learned. Lives would be in his hands, and he could hardly imagine how he would feel if his companions death was because of his idiotic mistake. At the same time however, he was excited and looking forward to the adventure. He would be able to save and protect people while making his mind and body move as quickly as possible. He grinned to himself. That was when he remembered one of the main psychological problems when it comes to leaving. Everyone he loved would still be here, and he wouldn't be able to see them for at least a year depending on his duty. His mother, Harry, Molly, Sarah, Mike, Greg, all his teammates, and his newly made mate, Sherlock.

John took another sip and started the scans on his laptop before continuing his thoughts. Sherlock Holmes. Now that was an interesting topic. They had met four days ago at a local park by chance, and though they had exchanged a few texts, they otherwise haven't spoken since. Sherlock was John's favorite thing to ponder as of late. He was so incredibly brilliant from what John could tell, but he seemed to not acknowledge his 'deductions', as he called them on his website, as something that regular people should be awed by. Other than that, John knew very little of the young man. He only knew the following: His name was Sherlock Holmes, he was two years younger than John (making him about 24), he was brilliant, arrogant, interesting, and had very few friends.

Once again his thoughts were paused as John plugged his headphones into the laptop and clicked play on his music. He leaned back and closed his eyes, letting the music surround him. Music had always been something he enjoyed while thinking, and boy did he have a lot to think about. But, for some reason, as he closed his eyes and relaxed, alone in the coffee shop/library, he could only think about one thing…

Suddenly the chair across from him moved as someone sat down.

John mumbled, not opening his eyes, "I know this place is empty. Do you mind?"

"Oh not at all, feel free to stay at my table," the voice was deep baritone and very fast, as if the owner of it was thinking so fast he could hardly get out the words before a new thought came. But it was also very familiar.

"Sherlock?" John opened one eye and plucked out an ear bud, "What are you doing here? You've never been in here before."

He scoffed, "Yes I have, I come here every morning, but on Sunday's there's always a strange male with tea and headphones sitting at my table, and I have been urged to be polite to him, so I am."

"This isn't your table," John mumbled, pulling out the other ear bud and sitting up, eyes fully open now.

"Yes it is. Look underneath it."

John leaned over reluctantly and saw what Sherlock was talking about, "You carved your name into the bloody table?!"

"Is that a problem?"

John began to laugh as he shook his head no, after a few seconds, Sherlock laughed with him. They sat like that for a while, John eventually picking up his book and reading, his laptop now shut down, Sherlock reading some amazing complex titled book. By about 4:30 AM, Sherlock finally spoke.

"So you're leaving in three weeks then?" He said.

"Oh… uh, y-yeah…" He stumbled over the words as he had stopped actually reading the book long ago, thinking about his leave. Did Sherlock know the real reason John was leaving?

"I can't imagine what about this move could make someone so uneasy; considering you talk to someone you met just a few days ago so calmly."

"W-Well…"

"So that leads me to believe you're moving in with someone you haven't met yet?"

"Yes." It wasn't technically a lie; none of his mates would join him in the military.

"Ah, well, how do you feel about helping me with an experiment?"

"What?"

"An experiment, nothing involving you, but you have a better understanding of sports than I."

"What kind of experiment?"

"Simple thing really. I gave something to Anderson and he is watching some big game today, and I would like to note what reactions are odd for him, but I'm not sure what those would entail."

"O-Oh, wait, you know Anderson?"

"Yes. Had we not established this? He and Donovan have a private relationship, though she also shows an odd interest in you though apparently you have a girlfri-"

John cut him off slightly annoyed, "No. I. Do. Not."

"Hooper?" He tilted his head for half a second, confused at his false deduction apparently.

"Molly has lived next door to me since we were kids; she is my sister if nothing else. For God's sake, Sally needs to get her facts straight," John half growled, the constant comments always managing to piss him off.

"And Sarah?" Sherlock didn't seem to notice when John winced.

"She left me a few weeks ago…"

"Ah, none the less, yes I know Anderson, though we are nothing more than in knowledge of each other's existence."

"So, what is he like your enemy or something?" John was very thankful for the topic change.

"No, his IQ lowers that of anyone within a fifty foot radius, he does not qualify to be an enemy of mine. I am just annoyingly aware of his existence."

John couldn't help but laugh slightly, "Well, whatever it is, if Anderson's going to make a fool of himself while watching 'some game', I'm in."

Sherlock gave a small grin, "Good."

For some odd reason, they spent the rest of the day together. Simply reading, walking around, and talking. AT around five in the afternoon, they headed out to do the experiment on Anderson. By the end of that day, John and Sherlock had somehow become best friends, though neither would admit that. Not yet anyway.

OKAYS! What did you all think? I'll be continuing this fairly quickly, as I have lots of ideas and SHTUFF! Please review and whatever because it makes me happy and lets me know if I'm disgracing anything, I really do NOT want to insult Sherlock, John, Rugby, Britain, BBC, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, or anyone for that matter (except Irene, because I dislike her very much… sorrynotsorry) so thank you for reading. Stay tuned!