Title: The Circles People Move In
Rating: 12
Disclaimer: No version of Sherlock Holmes belongs to me.
Summary: Sebastian's history with Sherlock is more complex than he'd have you believe.
A/N: My November entry for thegameison_sherlock. Theme: Minor characters.
Seb and Sherlock moved in different circles, which was to say Seb had his own circle of friends and Sherlock was a circle all by himself. People joked that Sherlock's circle extended out ten feet around him to keep people away.
Sherlock was a first year chem. student, Seb; third year economics. To him, Sherlock was a strange waif who wandered downstairs to breakfast, stared at the scrambled eggs like he'd never seen any before, and caused a riot with a comment about semen-stains on Becky's skirt.
Seb's change of opinion began (unglamorously) with a wank. Or rather the need for one.
He…thought best in the shower, and his favourite trick was to go at three am when he was guaranteed privacy. He sauntered into the block barefoot, with his towel over his shoulder and his mind focused on whether he would police his fantasies tonight or not.
When he didn't things took rather a… male direction. He promised himself he would, but secretly knew he'd end up doing whatever worked. Things he couldn't have excited him most of all.
Sherlock was standing by the sinks, causing Seb to freeze in the doorway. The guy looked unexpectedly human under the clinical electric lights. A towel hung loosely around his hips and water dripped from his wet curls down onto newly-grown-into shoulders. Sherlock was closely checking the reflection of his left eye.
"I'm just going."
"No rush." Seb wasn't sure what part of him was speaking – the polite part or the part carefully not looking at Sherlock's damp stomach muscles above the loosening towel.
"I got the worst of the acid off," said Sherlock, adding; "A test tube exploded. Mostly over me."
He gave a smile that looked learned rather than experienced and headed out.
As he passed Seb he seemed to go through a mental equivalent of Seb's own internal struggle – should he speak or not? Speaking won.
"Your parents won't care that you're gay you know."
"What?" Seb clutched his towel in front of him like a security blanket. There was no way this guy could know… "How do you know my family? How do know anything about me?"
Sherlock shrugged. "I've observed you and therefore I can deduce their reaction. So long as you don't embarrass them publicly, they just don't care that much about you. I could go into detail about every little tell you have, but I have to rescue my journal from the acid spill."
He left, leaving Seb far too jittery to continue what he'd come in there for.
Two months later Seb was celebrating. Or rather, walking home from celebrating. Tomorrow he was going to have the sort of hangover that involves navigating around patches of your own vomit, but right now life was good.
He was a gay man. He could shout it. Everyone knew. His circle of friends was considerably smaller and he'd had the shit kicked out of him by his ex-rugby mates, but overall he was happier. He could shag the right sex for a start; he'd been enjoying that new development.
As if by magic Sherlock appeared on the stairs that Seb was trying to climb on his hands-and-knees. He held out a hand to help Seb up. Seb rewarded him with a wet, drunken kiss against the wall.
Sherlock was as dry and responsive as a book from the Bodleian, but he smelled like smoking and he was fiery hot to the touch. He felt dangerous, like he could ignite at any second.
"Mmph!"
Sherlock pushed Seb away, holding his arms out to make his personal space clear.
"That was a thank you," Seb murmured. Or tried to murmur. His murmur was both loud and slurred. "For everything."
"Yes, well," Sherlock sniffed delicately. "I have no desire for any… interaction with you. Not with anyone."
The next day, amid the expected hangover, Seb grinned. Sherlock was something he couldn't have, and that made him exciting.
He reckoned it would take two weeks to win him over.
Fifteen years later.
M_Hello Sebastian.
M_Or should I call you theimprobableone?
M_I'm glad my little games gave you the opportunity to ask for Sherlock's help.
M_I knew you'd jack-off after he left.
M_So did he.
M_Did you meet his 'colleague'?
M_How did if feel being the one that just wasn't good enough?
M_I have an interest in anyone who is so impassioned by Sherlock.
M_I think we should meet.
M_Soon.