John looked over at Sherlock, his black curls whooshing around his head. It was June 5, 1953, and he and the "greaser" were "going for a drive".
"Come on, babe..." Sherlock had pleaded, a smirk on his lips. "It'll be fun."
"But Sherl, I have to study for the finals! I need to do well!" John had replied.
"Ah, screw that! You'll do fine, nerdo."
John smiled tentatively, blushing a little.
"See, I knew you'd come around. It's gonna be great."
In fact, John had wanted to come for a ride in Sherlock's new car. His parents had gotten it for him for his 16th birthday so that he could drive himself around. "You're always at the damn Dairy Queen. Please drive yourself." So Sherlock had gotten a car, and his parents had spared no expense. It was a brand new black Chevy Corvette, and Sherlock loved it already. "You've gotta see the car, babe." He often said to John. "She's a beauty." But now John wondered where they were going. "Hey Sherl, I thought we were going to a drive-in."
"Changed my mind."
"Well where are we going, then?"
Sherlock only smirked and kept driving.
John enjoyed what was left of the ride. It was a cool, nearly summer night, and the stars shone down from the sky. There were no clouds, and the sliver of moon in the sky was a beautiful sight. Sherlock had lowered the volume on the radio, but they could still hear the soulful singing.
"We're here." Sherlock announced.
"Where exactly is 'here'?"
Sherlock turned to John, that characteristic smirk of his playing on his lips.
"We're nowhere, and that's where I wanna be, just alone with you, babe."
Then Sherlock was next to him, caressing his face, his lips meeting John's. John's initial shock was gone in only a second as he pulled Sherlock closer to him, minimizing the space between them. It threatened to separate them, to tear them apart, to leave them alone in the world. John stared hazily at Sherlock for a moment, looking into his eyes, the windows to his soul, and they closed their eyes again, the kiss becoming more passionate. Sherlock's hands felt their way around John's hair, running through it with long fingers. John pulled away for a moment, gazing at Sherlock, trying to convey his feelings. "I love you." He said finally, and Sherlock kissed his nose. "I love you, babe." John breathed a sigh onto Sherlock's cheek, and planted his lips there. Sherlock rubbed his back gently as John fell into his arms, his leather jacket being warmed by John's presence, proof that John existed, that this was not a dream, and they fell asleep.