I do not own any of the characters, they belong to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, and BBC's Mark Gatiss and Steven Moffat.
Another disclaimer: this is the English version of a fic I wrote a couple of years ago in Spanish. As English it is not my first language, I apologize for any grammar errors and any other strange-looking sentences or expressions.
After graduating from high school with an impeccable academic record, Sherlock had only two weeks left of summer holidays before going to university and finally leaving his parents' house. In two weeks he would begin his Major in Chemistry at the prestigious University of Oxford and spend the next few years immersed in his studies, expanding his already vast knowledge. Although the perspective of this new step in life made him very excited, the attitude he showed to the world remained the same cold and inexpressive one he almost always had. Sherlock had no friends and wasn't too close to his family either, although his mom always tried to stay close to him. One way she attempted that was having a 'mother & son' day once in a while, which basically consisted in driving Sherlock to buy books or test tubes for the improvised lab in his bedroom or taking him to the most recent exhibition in the Criminology Museum.
Mrs. Holmes knew her son way too well to know that he would rather pack more books than clothes in his luggage when he moved to Oxford. That is why she decided to have one last 'mother & son' day before Sherlock left, and drove him to Waterstones, the biggest bookstore in London City so he could cross off the long list of books he "might need" when he moved.
The morning they drove to the city was particularly a very sunny and warm one, so all the Londoners were out in the streets and parks enjoying the summer sunshine while it lasted. However, Sherlock couldn't care less about the sunshine or the weather. As soon as his mom parked the car, he stepped out, slammed the car door, and walked inside the bookstore without a saying a word or throwing a look at his mom. Mrs. Holmes was far too used to her son's behaviour, so she just shrugged, took her time to get out of the car, and walked inside the bookstore's café, where she would wait until Sherlock was done selecting books and was ready to pay.
John Watson had spent most of his summer in London taking care of his sister, Harriet, who had been interned in a rehab centre for drugs addiction and an attempted suicide a couple of months earlier. His vacations were almost over, and he had barely been outside of Harriet's apartment for reasons beyond grocery shopping or to take her to the rehab centre.
The morning was hot, and John had opened the windows in the kitchen while making the morning tea. Harriet entered the kitchen, still in her pajamas, and without saying anything, she dragged her feet all the way to the table and rested her head on her hands.
"Good morning," said John.
"Have you seen how nice the day is? I thought we could go out for a little stroll or something if you feel up to it…?" suggested John with a hopeful – and somewhat tired – tone, while placing two cups of tea on the table.
Harriet remained silent and looking down.
"So, I'm guessing that's a no"
John sighed. Those had definitely not been the best vacations of his life. And, although he cared for his sister's well-being, he couldn't help feeling a little bit relieved that in only two weeks he would be back at university for his second year in Medical school, and would be able to go back to his own routine.
John's sigh didn't go unnoticed and, slowly, Harriet raised her head and looked at her brother.
"But… if you want to go out, then go out" Harriet muttered. "Don't mind me. I mean, I'll be fine if you go out for a couple of minutes… hours. Really" she added looking at John's shocked and frowning face.
That was the first time in months that Harriet had asked or even suggested that John should take some time to himself.
"Well, I… I guess some fresh air would actually be quite nice," said John after quite a long silence. "And I could even take the chance to buy the books I need for my new courses".
John's shock gave way to the excitement of the prospect of finally having some time to himself.
It was just past noon when John walked into Waterstones bookshop and immediately headed towards the medical books section, where he immersed himself in the skimming of some volumes of military medicine.
Instead of focusing on the mandatory books for his courses, his passion for books had him grabbing all sorts of books – even though he knew well that he couldn't afford to buy them all. In no time his arms were full, and he was struggling to carry them all. He tried to reach a book about pharmaceutical chemistry from one of the higher shelves, but he wasn't very tall, and in his effort to reach it, all the books he was carrying fell to the floor, causing a scene that turned his face bright red. He cursed under his breath, and he hurried to pick them all up.
"Multidimensional Pharmochemistry, was it?" said a deep man's voice.
John immediately stood up and found himself just a few centimetres away from a young skinny guy with penetrating eyes who was holding the book John had been trying to reach.
Sherlock had been skimming some books from the same shelf and had witnessed the whole scene. For some weird reason Sherlock helped him out without thinking twice – he normally didn't help, or even notice, other people.
"Err, yeah… thanks" John replied, his face still red, but now mainly because of the proximity with the tall stranger. He aimed to grab the book from Sherlock's hand but the books he had just picked up threatened to fall again.
"You do know that they have baskets for situations just like this, right?" Sherlock asked mockingly. "Come, follow me".
Still holding the book on Multidimensional Pharmochemistry, Sherlock walked towards the bookstore's entrance where there was a pile of small baskets. He grabbed one and handed it over to John. When John reached for the basket, he unintentionally touched Sherlock's hand, and at that moment both young men felt like a lightning traveled from their hand across their whole bodies. Sherlock immediately withdrew his hand and looked away. John's face turned red once again.
For a second, both stood in silence; wondering what had just happened.
"So… thanks again, err…?"
"Sherlock"
"Sherlock?" John automatically repeated. "Well, I mean, you have quite an original name, I suppose. Mine is not, I'm John" he added after the pale, tall guy's offended look.
John reached his now free hand. Sherlock took a moment to react, but then he shook John's hand while looking into his eyes. Once again, each felt an inexplicable shiver, which they both tried to hide.
"So, which Medical School do you go to?" asked Sherlock, still looking away.
"I'm sorry..?" asked a surprised John. "How, how can you know that I…"
"That you are in Medical School?" Sherlock added with his head held high and with a small grin that he always had when showing off his natural skills for reading people. "Well, judging by all the bibliography that you got there" Sherlock pointed at the basket, "molecular biology, pharmaceutical chemistry, anatomy, military medicine… it's pretty obvious, honestly".
John stood in silence for a couple of seconds, not knowing what to say. He smiled.
"That is… pretty impressing, Sherlock, I must say"
This time it was Sherlock who blushed, and a small smile appeared on his face. He was not expecting John's answer; people normally did not like when Sherlock read them out loud and told him to stop being so stuck-up.
"Oh, and to answer your question, I go to Oxford Med. Second year," said John.
"Oxford… Then we should be expecting great things from you, right?" the pale, tall guy grinned.
They both laughed.
"What about you? Are you currently studying somewhere?"
"Well, as a matter of fact, I also go to Oxford. Well, this will be my first year, actually"
"Really?" expressed John with a more enthusiastic tone that he expected and unconsciously biting his lower lip. "What, what program?"
"Chemistry"
"Chemistry... I would not have imagined"
"What do you mean?" Sherlock did not know what to make of John's comment.
"Well, is just that at first sight, you look more like a… Law guy," said John. "I mean, judging by the pants and the shirt you're wearing…"
Sherlock always felt strange when he was the one being analysed by others. And the fact that it was this short, strong-looking guy analysing him made Sherlock feel even stranger, although not in a bad way; all the contrary, actually.
"I am sorry to be the one to tell you that your abilities to read people are not that good, John"
"I don't know why, but I find it hard to believe you are sorry at all" John laughed, and Sherlock smiled.
Sherlock could not fully understand what was happening inside him each time he saw John's smile; but it was as if the warmth of that smile made him feel safe and accepted, somehow. And, for the first time in his life, Sherlock actually wanted to keep talking with someone he just met.
Neither John nor Sherlock had noticed that they had spent almost an entire minute just smiling at each other, without saying a word. But this was not the typical awkward silence; they actually felt like two old friends that enjoyed each other's company. John wondered why he felt like he already knew him; there was an odd familiarity in the way Sherlock looked at him, and, deep inside, John really liked the tone of mystery in Sherlock's eyes and voice.
"Excuse me, son, I just want to grab a basket" an old woman's voice interrupted the guys' silent staring game.
Both guys came back to reality, becoming too self-conscious.
"I, I think I should go and pay for these" John looked at his basket full of books. "I need to get back home now"
"Right. I think I will continue looking for my books" said Sherlock, who had forgotten for a second where he was.
"Right" John clicked his tongue. "It was nice meeting you, Sherlock"
"Indeed it was, John"
"And, I know it's quite big, but… who knows, maybe we will bump again in Oxford sometime" added John, biting his lower lip again.
"Yeah, that would be… cool" said an excited Sherlock, trying to sound calm.
"Well, see you in Oxford, then" John concluded, and the guys shook hands one last time.
Sherlock smiled. John nodded as he turned around and walked towards the checkout.
"See you in Oxford, John" Sherlock muttered, although he knew that the other guy could not hear him anymore. Sherlock walked towards the opposite direction, unable to erase the smile on his face, and more excited than ever for the day he would move to Oxford and find out how far his faculty was from the university's Medical School.