As I walked into 221B Bakers Street, a familiar set of arms grabbed me from behind. As I spun around, Sherlock's lips caught my mine. I pulled him into a close hug. It's been a week since he admitted his love for me, and vice versa.
He whispered into my ear, "Want to go out on or first date tonight, John?" I nodded and kissed him slowly. I went to get dressed.
As I took my top of I looked in the mirror, the light exposed my scar that cut across my chest. I got a sudden flash back to the bombs, guns, explosions, bangs. I fell to the floor in tears and started screaming on the top of my lungs: "NO! I don't want to go back! Stop it!"
Soon after Sherlock came rushing into my room, saw me curled up on the floor screaming. He lied down next to me, cocooning me in his own body. Straight away, I fell back into reality but didn't want to get back up. If I did so I would see my chest again and Sherlock would think I am weak. He pulled a grey, woollen sweater over me and continued to hug me, forever whispering, "Its ok, John. Listen to me! You're in your bedroom, in London." Then he added, "And your handsome boyfriend is here to protect you." I laughed slightly at this. He is so vain and it was the first time he described himself as my boyfriend. "Are you sure you still want to go out tonight? I can get Mrs Hudson to get some pizzas and drinks."
"No, it's fine. I'm fine now. I'll be seeing you in half an hour." Then I stood up, still shaking, and kissed his forehead confidently. He looked at me worryingly then agreed to leave.
I moved towards my drawers, picked out a pair of black trousers, put them on. As I stood in front of the mirror again, I noticed the jumper Sherlock had put around me. It has a pattern on it that brought out, what was left of, my muscular chest.
Half an hour later, there was a knock on my bedroom door. Sherlock walked in wearing a tight purple shirt, which revealed his chest magnificently, tight grey trousers, exposing his perfect bum and very shiny black shoes. He took my hands, looked into my eyes deeply and asked if I was ok now. I nodded and walked out of the flat with him. As I glanced back at the flat, Mrs Hudson was watching us with a huge smile upon her face.
In the back of the Black Cab, which was taking us to our destination, a café by the London Eye, Sherlock wouldn't stop looking at me. Was he worried that I was going to have another breakdown? Does he think I am weak? Does he still like me? When he realised I had caught him staring he looked out of the window and put his hand in-between us, in the middle school style. I took his hand and his face lit up immediately. Outside, the lights of London lit up the black, night sky which was pinpricked with stars.
The cab pulled to a stop outside a Victorian building, with white walls which were highlighted with spot lights; there were pot plants placed around the grand entrance which leads into the waiting room. We joined arms and where we were greeted by a young woman who gave us seats by the window, which offered us an excellent view of the Thames and London Eye. We received our menus and shortly after the young lady came over to our table.
"Hello sirs, may I take your order?" She asked.
"Yes please, I'll have Spaghetti please, and Sherlock?" I said.
"I'm not hungry; I'll eat some of John's, thanks." He replied and she dismissed herself. I had learnt that with Sherlock you cannot persuade him to eat if he didn't want to, so I decided not to argue on our first date.
As the food arrived, I thanked the woman and started to eat slowly. Sherlock, who had now moved to sit next to me, stole a piece of bread and started picking at it.
"John, that couple over there is staring at us." He whispers into my ear.
"Do you have a problem?" He polity asked the couple. I could already feel my cheeks brighten.
"Sorry, I didn't think that's very appropriate that you or your kind should be allowed to do that in public." The man said with a matter-of-fact tone.
"Excuse me?" I butted in with anger growing inside me.
"You're sick. Both of you." His date replied. Before I could control myself I was standing up threateningly.
"Come on then, Gay Boy." The man said standing up too.
Sherlock grabbed my arm and said, "Come on John, I think it's time to leave." We walked over to the bar, paid and left without dignity intact.
"We won't be going there again." I mumbled angrily.
In the back of another cab, Sherlock was still attempting to calm me down.
"Wasn't the best first date, was it?" He said as he moved closer to me. As he put his hand on my thigh, I kissed him slowly. But I suddenly broke off, and gave him a look, as if to say 'to be continued.'
Sorry, just an update. This story is featured in my newest work Lightbulbs and Scars! I suggest you check it out. Thanks for reviewing. Here's the link: s/9538748/1/Lightbulbs-and-scars Thank you all!