Everybody Knows That Generation Love is Suicide
Sherlock was nervous, so nervous it was completely ridiculous. His situation should not be such an event. So he was about to go on his first date, what was the big issue? Yes, maybe he never thought he would find himself in this predicament, specially since he was not the most liked person at school, but it shouldn't make him so terrified to think of spending an afternoon eating and talking. They were supposed to be normal, ordinary, dull things that had no right to make him want to crawl back into bed and never come out again.
The problem was that this was not only his first date and he was seventeen years-old, but it was also the fact that it was with John Watson. The most popular and well liked bad boy of his school; the moment he asked him out, the brunette was unable to help himself from spending a few moments calculating whether this was just a joke or a bet, being basically kid nothing. So far, there were no indications that the blonde's intentions were anything but sincere, still he would do well to be on alert. And that right there, was the biggest obstacle, when would he be able to relax enough in order to asses if the date was real or not?
Sherlock shook of his jitters as much as he could and entered the cafeteria, a small 50's themed restaurant where all the cool kids hang out these days. He was expecting having to wait, possibly forever, for John; but there he was, sitting alone on a booth, in all his leather jacket glory. Glancing at the menu interestedly, and the aspiring detective could read on him that his last meal had been more than seven hours prior, he must be feeling really hungry.
He approached the table and the blonde smiled wildly when he saw him sit down. "Hello." The younger boy said; to which the other just answered a 'hello, you,' that should have sounded idiotic, but it was actually quite charming. The curly-haired man laughed and settled in on his seat, John's presence often had the contradicting effect of making him at ease, while swarming him with nervousness. Maybe it was due to the fact that they hadn't known each other that long, and even if Sherlock was not a shy person in the least, John didn't seem to mind his strangeness, and that made him anxious, worried that he might loose that warm attention.
There was also the fact that this all could be a big lie.
They got to talking, the conversation flowing freely, if a bit hesitant at first, thanks to their shared interests. A few of the worst fears left the grey-eyed boy, noting that John seemed to be enjoying himself and the company. The upbeat rock song playing on the speakers made for a complacent and easy atmosphere. Their food arrived and it was a helpful topic of conversation when the older boy started nagging him to drink his whole blueberry milkshake, commenting on his very slim frame and how he had to eat more to keep his transport healthy in order to keep up with his massive intellect. Sherlock laughed and took one of the other's fries in retribution.
"So tell me, Sherlock Holmes." The blonde leaned in and stared at his date. "How am I doing?" He asked cryptically and the brunette was taken aback by the strange question. He could not understand what it was he should be answering.
"Doing with what?" He asked, running his gaze through the other's expression to gauge the meaning of the situation.
"As your date." John explained. Not seeming to understand that his intended justification really explained nothing at all. "How am I doing?" He asked again, and smiled twirling the straw of his milkshake around.
A hot rage suddenly surged through the younger boy, indignant of the implications it could have. He knew it, he just knew it was too good to be true. He had always been sure relationship were a bad idea, that trusting people was something he should never do. He just hoped it didn't have to be John the one to prove it. He would have been better not knowing.
Sherlock pushed his plate aside and reached for his wallet to pay his part of the bill. Just wanting to be out of that suffocating place. "Sherlock?" The other looked on, confused. "What are you doing?" He asked as the other stood up and made for the door.
The cold crisp air felt relieving on his skin. He heard the blonde coming out of the restaurant as he was trying to hail a cab a few seconds after he had made his exit. "What happened?" He said, trying to gain his companion's attention. "Did I do something wrong?" The blonde asked confused; and how the aspiring detective wanted to believe in the appeared sincerity in his eyes.
"No, John." He spat. "Just leave me alone." He turned his back to the other's gaze, wishing for all the world just to return home so he could delete the whole incident from his Mind Palace.
"What? No." John grabbed his shoulder, in an attempt to get the other to understand something, but the brunette did not want explanations, he just wanted to go. "What happened?" The stubborn boy demanded, clearly not satisfied with the command to leave and not return.
"I just knew it." Sherlock explained. "I knew this was somehow not real," He looked down at his shoes, not sure why the grip the other had on his shoulder felt like fire. "Although I have to admit you had me fool for a second. Congratulations." The sarcasm dripped from his words, and a look of hurt went through the blonde's face, yet he could not trust it now. Why would the older boy feel guilty for something that was obviously designed to play with him?
"Not real?" John asked in anger. "What? because I asked you how I was doing?" He demanded, and it was not a reaction Sherlock was expecting in the least. "Sherlock, listen to me, It was real, it is real," He took one of the brunette's hands and cradled it between his own, Sherlock supposed it said too much about him that he let him. "I asked that because I was nervous as hell, okay? I had been wanting to ask you out since before we were properly introduced and well," He trailed off, as the other stared in astonishment, this was information he didn't have. Data that changed so much and yet he had been unable to see it.
"But you are John Watson," He stated dumbly, trying to make sense of what the other had just admitted, how was that possible? "How could you be nervous about a date with me?"
"Because you're Sherlock," The shorter answered sincerely. "And very smart and I really like you and I didn't want to mess it up, but I guess I still did and-" He was interrupted by the curly-haired man, which had been convinced of the sincerity of John's feelings by the small blush appearing when he talked about their date. He understood he had acted too rashly, maybe too fearfully, but was back okay now. John was not going to hurt him. He cut him out of his torture with a: "Shut up." He said, and the other was the one who was now confused.
"What?" He queried. "Why?" He looked surprised, as if he didn't expect the other to suddenly stop him mid-rant.
"Just, shut up." The boffin stated and turned around to enter the cafeteria once more. Halting and turning around to beckon the other to move.
"What are you doing?" John didn't seem to believe things could be so easily changed. Trying to follow on when and how the conversation could have had such a turn.
"I'm going to let you buy me one of those huge hamburgers that you were going on about and we are going to continue our date as if nothing had happened." Sherlock explained and smiled a bit. Wanting to give this wonderful thing a second chance.
"Really?" He asked, but quickly followed inside.
"Yes, on one condition," The brunette sat himself in their earlier booth and grabbed the other's hand again. "That we forget the embarrassing fact that I panicked and we never speak of it again."
"Deal." And just like that, they were back on track. "So, a huge hamburger, you said?" He said and raised a hand to call out for the waiter.
"You have convinced me." The other answered with a playful smile. John picked up the menu again and passed it on to his date so he could place his order, completely pleased that their little blunder had made his companion hungry. He really needed to put some meat on those bones.
"What about fries?" He commented, almost too casually for the other not to pick up. Sporting an innocent grin on his face, while he stroked the palm of Sherlock's hand with his thumb.
"Don't push it." Sherlock said and they both burst out into giggles.
Author's Note: I don't ever want to know.
Inspired by the unreleased song Kid Nothing, by Gerard Way.
If you liked it read my other stories.