A/N: Thiiiiiiis is crazy. This is a dream of mine, writing this. I hope I can do it, and I'm also hoping I'm accurate. The inspiration for this: The Idiot's Lantern (Doctor Who, S2). Setting and all-John, Sherlock and Molly's apartment complex is exactly the one occupied by The Connelleys (spell check!).
Hope you like! Hope it's accurate.
The high school they go to-Brookfield Academy-may or may not exist but certainly doesn't in London and probably not 1953 London either. I made it up, for all intents and purposes.
Songs: Kick Drum Heart by The Avett Brothers and We Might Be Dead by Tomorrow by SoKo
May 20, 1953
John
John Watson vividly remembers eating eggs as yellow as his school uniform when he first heard about the Holmes.
"John, have you met our new neighbors yet?"
John looked up from his eggs, surprised. Since when did they have new neighbors?
He could tell by his mother's tone, however, that she had already met them. She was not fishing for information; she was much more insistent when she was. What she was doing now was the classic Holly Watson way of turning a question into a direction. He hated it almost as much as he hated the color of his school uniform.
John sighed and leaned back, taking the bait like he always did. "No."
She pounced immediately, a triumphant smile on her lips as she swiveled around, her stiff floral apron unmoving and her usually tired eyes bright. "They have a boy about your age who just transferred to your school. I thought it would be nice of you to walk him there this morning."
John tried to fight back the urge to smile as a hopeful thrill shot through him.
"What's his name?"
His mother pursed her lips, the red lipstick scrunching up with the movement. "I can't seem to remember…it was something funny, mind you, so be nice about it when you find out. But that goes without saying, I hope…" she trailed off, glancing to her left and seeing the mint green clock on the kitchen wall. "Hurry, John, or you two will be late."
John's heart rate quickened as he quickly finished his eggs and hurried up the stairs to brush his teeth, wondering all the while about the boy he was about to accompany to school.
As a closeted gay 15 year old, John's quiet and protected nature tended to alienate a lot of people. His friend group consisted of his 13 year old (also gay) sister Harriet ("Harry" to John) and his best mate Mike, who knew nothing of his sexuality but noted with increasing consistency the amount of girls John didn't proposition. Harry was the only person in the world who did know, and as casual and mellow as Mike tended to be, John had no idea what his potential reaction would be like.
Because with his discovery came fear, a fear that replaced curiosity. And this new life, living with this new discovery was something he couldn't and wouldn't change, but he missed the ease of his old life, and his old friends, especially Mary—apparently because she had grown breasts over the summer their five-year friendship had to end; running around covered in dirt until bedtime was replaced by giggles with girlfriends in the hallway, her mother's makeup on her face and her hair done up carefully, glancing shyly at John between classes.
"I just want to get married, John!" she had said dreamily, touching her ring finger absently before her face turned serious again. "If…" she took a deep breath and the next sentence came out rather rushed, but practiced. "If nothing's going to happen then I can't waste my time."
And so ended their easy and playful friendship, because obviously nothing was going to happen. The same thing occurred with Sarah and Vanessa, and it seemed like all the mothers in London were ready to swoop their daughters away from boys like John and put them in front of boys who would give them the time of day. It seemed the time had come for carefree and gender neutral childhood to transform into womanhood and with womanhood came certain expectations.
It made John sad, really, to see Mary and Sarah and Vanessa being talked up to in the hallway by boys with misleading Penny Loafers and carefully combed hair, hungry eyes roving over their uniformed bodies, and his former playmates loving and hating every second of it. It made him miss his old life, and made him rather hate this new one.
Because new was scary, and, yes, John was afraid.
But new was also wonderful, because new meant possible.
And, yes, John was very optimistic.
May 20, 1953
Sherlock
"There is a boy next door named John Watson. He is fifteen years old, and, like you, is attending Brookfield Academy. You will walk with him to school this morning."
Sherlock vividly remembers not wanting to walk John Watson to school. He huffed out a breath, tightening his grip on his fork. His brother must have seen the flash of anger across his face over his newspaper. He set the papers down and sighed at his younger brother, who was looking sourly at his yellow eggs. They were the color of his new uniform. Sherlock hated eggs.
"Really, Sherlock, you have to get over your fear of people if you're going to go anywhere in this world." Mycroft said disapprovingly, and Sherlock barked out a laugh in response, pushing his eggs away emphatically.
"I think you've got that backwards, brother of mine." Sherlock stood rather abruptly, the chair legs scraping the linoleum in protest. He grabbed his new school bag and pulled his new school sweater over his new white undershirt, stalking to their new front door. He paused, hand on the new shiny doorknob. "But what's one more person that hates me?" he called over his shoulder sardonically, before flinging the door open and walking out into the fresh morning.
He closed the door absently behind him, scanning around for any sign of this John Watson.
"Come out and play, Johnny Boy," he murmured, eyes now fixed on the rising sun.
May 20, 1953
John
"He's waiting for you, John, hurry!" his mother called up the stairs.
"Shit," John muttered to himself, and then louder: "Coming!"
Bounding downstairs, he grabbed his school bag and kissed his mother's powdered cheek.
"Be good, John!" she called after him as he hurried out the door, like she always did.
"I will," he shouted with practiced melody as the door swung shut. As the sound slammed through the peace and the haze of the early morning, John noticed a tall figure wearing bright yellow look up in his direction. John meekly raised his hand in greeting, and figure nodded lazily in recognition. John ambled up to the boy and got a good look at him for the first time.
His shock of dark curls was the first thing John noticed. The color was in stark contrast to the alabaster of his skin and the unruliness to the harsh loveliness of his features and especially the piercing verdigris of his hawk-like eyes. Okay, so maybe John noticed his entire face. The boy was gorgeous, and John rather thought he belonged on a movie screen and not standing outside in front of a dull (but respectable!) London apartment complex.
"Hi," John said shyly, a small smile on his lips. The boy's eyes widened for a fraction of a second before narrowing into cool indifference again. John cleared his throat and tried again, extending his hand for the boy to shake. "I'm John-John Watson," he informed, the smile remaining on his face, refusing to go away.
"I know," the boy said quickly, almost harshly. John laughed at the absurdity of it, withdrawing his hand and sticking it back in his pockets when it was obvious it would not be shaken. The boy looked thrown.
"You laughed," he noted, his eyes abandoning their nonchalant pretense and surveying John intensely.
"Uh, yeah, I did. It was funny," John offered, seeing that the boy seemed to need further explanation.
The boy blinked and suddenly flashed John a dizzying smile, true and special.
John felt a blush creeping up his face and quickly glanced at the sun, now risen.
"If you try and blame your blush on the heat of the morning, you know I won't believe you."
It took a minute for John to fully process what his new neighbor had just said. He blinked and stared, and finally said: "Who are you?"
The boy's eyes became dark with amusement and one corner of his cupid's bow mouth twisted up into an alluring smile.
"Sherlock Holmes. I'm your new neighbor. Now, aren't we supposed to be getting to school?"
"Yes," John replied immediately, shaking his head a fraction to clear it. "This way, then." He started to walk up the main road, but Sherlock sighed.
"What?"
"Dull."
"Dull?"
Sherlock smirked at John's incredulous tone.
"I know a way that's much more interesting. Care to follow me, John Watson?"
John didn't move, just stared as Sherlock moved around him, never breaking eye contact and ambling towards the row of flats opposite them.
Sherlock walked until he was in the middle of the street, and John glanced uneasily around him.
They stared at each other. John was vaguely aware he was going to be late for school.
"I know many things about both you and the world, John. I've known you for five minutes, and already know all about you." Sherlock called out to John, chin up and hands in his pockets, the small smile he had never faltering. He drew out the word "all", and what should have irritated John just intrigued-fascinated-him.
"I've known the world for 15 years. How much do you think I can show you?" he titled his head. "Coming?"
John swallowed. "Oh, god, yes."
May 20, 1953
Sherlock
Sherlock grinned in triumph as John bounded across the street towards him, his school bag bouncing against his back as he ran. He caught up to Sherlock, flushed and breathless, as the taller boy looked down at his new...neighbor.
John Watson was one of the most unassuming boys Sherlock had ever seen, really: typical sandy blonde haircut, strained relationship with his mother, football star, academic prowess and all-around golden boy.
But then he had laughed.
And he was laughing now.
"I hope," he breathed, between giggles, "that this doesn't turn out to be the most ridiculous thing I've ever done."
Sherlock let out a laugh, and looked John directly in the eyes, watching the shorter boy's breath catch and his eyes widen.
"I hope that it does."
John's lips parted slightly, and Sherlock's smile widened, his eyes darkening again. They were the color, now, of a sky after a storm. John didn't know how it was possible to have eyes like that, so dark and humored and lively and wanting, but he was looking at them. What John didn't realize was that the storm hadn't passed yet.
He was just right in the middle of it.
The world was swirling and crashing and storming around Sherlock where it only rotated around normally for other people, and it was so infuriating when no one else noticed it. No one cared about anything as long as their world continued turning. He didn't know if anyone else saw the storm or if they just ignored it, but now he stared down at John and realized that John could see the storm too.
It wasn't surrounding him like it was Sherlock, it was always off in the distance, taunting him. He was forced to stand on steady earth and look at Sherlock's storm, always wanting to be in the eye of it.
And now he was.
We're walking in to the fields
We're walking in to the forest
The moon is before us
Up above
We're holding hands in the rain
Saying words like I love you
Do you love me?
My heart like a kick drum
My love like a voice
May 20, 1953
John
"So...you do know where the school is, yeah?" John asked, as Sherlock led him through random streets and back alleys. He was increasingly aware of the fact that the bell rang in ten minutes, and John didn't want to be held responsible for Sherlock being late on his first day.
"I know so much, John, I'm offended you had to ask."
"Is the school's location one of them?"
"John." Sherlock came to a stop in front of a brick building that John had never seen before, making sure he had John's attention before grabbing his arm and leading him around to the back. John stumbled along, heart starting to pound as Sherlock started his monologue:
"I know you have an emotionally detached father and a mother obsessed with her role as a housewife but not so much her role as a mother. I know you have a sister Harriet you're close with, very close-close enough she's one of the only people you trust with the secret of your sexuality-gay-perhaps because she is too." Sherlock looked at him sideways, and John's head whipped up to meet his gaze. "I know where the school is."
John stopped.
"But we're not going to school," he started, head reeling with questions and amazement.
"Nope," Sherlock rocked back on his heels and grinned at John, lips popping on the "p".
There was a beat of silence as John drew his breath and began with his first question.
"How...how did you know...about..." he cleared his throat, starting again. "How did you know I'm gay?"
Sherlock smirked and strolled up to John. "You didn't seem confused by the fact that you found me attractive."
"Okay," John said slowly. "How did you know-"
"You blushed when I smiled at you. Your pupils were dilated, and you were staring at my eyes quite a bit." Those same eyes now roamed over John's body.
They were so close now.
"Instant attraction," he finished, bringing his eyes back up to John's.
John let out a breath, not realizing he'd been holding it in.
He may not have much practice with this, but he can guess what he was supposed to do next.
Feigning confidence and drawing himself up, he stared unblinkingly at Sherlock.
"Instant attraction. Okay," he said. "So what are you gonna do about it?"
"Make you late for school," Sherlock murmured, before gripping John's waist and pulling him in for a searing kiss.
John gasped at the contact and his hands flew up to Sherlock's chest as Sherlock deepened the kiss. After a few seconds of slightly awkward mouth work, Sherlock pulled back and rested his forehead against John's, breathing hard.
"Have you ever kissed anyone before?" he asked, looking into John's eyes again.
John flushed. "...no."
"I'll teach you, then." Sherlock resolved, and drew John even tighter to him. He brought John's arms up to his shoulders and wound his own arms around John's waist, but concentrating most of his efforts into the kiss itself. He showed John how to kiss with tongue as they both leaned up against the building for support, John leaning against Sherlock's body and Sherlock's arms never leaving John. He showed John where to put his hands as things got heated and he showed John how to get his bright yellow school issued jumper dirty when it's cast off of him and into a back alleyway.
Sherlock teaches John to kiss instead of walking him to school.
"Why me?" John asks at some point.
"You laughed," Sherlock responds.
"Why now?"
Sherlock looks around a bit, a small smile on his lips before he answers.
"'Cause soon enough we'll die," he says finally, and John kisses him again.
Give me all your love now
'Cause for all we know
We might be dead by tomorrow
So let's love fully
And let's love loud
Let's love now
'Cause soon enough we'll die
There's nothing like finding gold
within the rocks hard and cold
I'm so surprised to find more
Always surprised to find more
I won't look back anymore
I left the people that do
It's not the chase that I love
It's me following you
'Cause soon enough we'll die.
