The Soldier and the Freak
YourCroft Holmes
1.
The next day was, yet again, a snowday. John however was sat in the window with his gloves and coat on early enough to watch the sunrise over the snowy peaks on top of hedges and fences, making them light in a freezing fire. He wanted to build an amazing snow castle before Michael, James and Nancy came over again to impress them. When it was light enough he quickly made his escape outside before his mother was even out of bed. It had, again, snowed all night meaning that another layer of fine fresh snow was ready to destroy. A light flurry of it was still falling when John left the house and it fell into his eyelashes. The scent in the air was fresh and clear with hint of wet grass that filled John's lungs and made him feel like he could achieve anything. His little house had a pleasant front garden where the previous owner had planted an array of flowers along the edges, and in a large circular flower bed in the centre. These, of course, we're currently hiding away from the winter and we're snug beneath a blanket of snow that mother nature had tucked them in with. It was strange to think of anyone else living in the house even though it was relatively new to him.
The sky was slowly clearing of fluffy clouds in places, revealing pristine blue sky and and glorious summer sunshine though everything was still tinged with red light. There were three wise birds sitting on the power-lines watching him carefully, ready to snatch a juicy worm if he uncovered one while destroying the snow although it was unlikely. The worms themselves had burrowed deep, closer to the core of the earth where it was warmer and safe from beady black eyes and pecking beaks.
He wiped his nose on the back of his sleeve and clapped his hands together before gathering as much snow as he could. He build it into a large compact pile that he shaped into tall rectangle that reached his shoulders.
"What's that?"
The voice made John jump, the three couldn't be here already! He peered around his structure and saw Sherlock standing in the snow with dripping wet curls and a shovel in his hand.
"I er...I'm making a castle," John replied, "What are you doing?"
Sherlock suddenly hid the shovel behind his back, "Nothing."
John furrowed his brows, "Right."
There was a lengthy silence where the two stood looking at each other. Eventually John took a deep breath and went back to working on his castle by continually shaping the sides.
"Hitting my brother yesterday was funny," Sherlock said, studying John intently.
John blushed at the memory, "It was an accident."
"It will give me something to make MyCroft feel uncomfortable about in the future."
"MyCroft?"
"Yes my brother, MyCroft."
"YourCroft?"
"No, MyCroft," Sherlock scowled, "What is wrong with you?"
John flinched back, "Nothing."
Sherlock shrugged and walked away without a word, leaving John feeling confused and embarrassed.
"John Watson! I thought you'd been taken from your bed! Don't scare me like that, I need to know where you are at all times!" Emma Watson stood in her nightgown and slippers with her hands on her hips.
"I'm sorry mum," John bowed his head in shame.
"In. Now." She ordered.
"But Mum I... "
She glared.
"Yes mum," John dragged his feet miserably into the house, his numb cheeks burning with fire once they hit the heat of the house in comparison to outside. At least Sherlock hadn't been there to see him get told off. What had he been doing with the shovel? Hiding a dead body? John laughed at himself but then stopped abruptly. For some reason he wouldn't put it past the boy.
He wasn't allowed to go out and play for the rest of the day after his escapade in the early morning. He was told to clean his room and play nicely inside by himself. Later in the day his father managed to make a rare call back to home.
"Hey Buddy! How are you doing?" John's father had a deep and gruff voice, but it was somehow also soothing.
"Good, I miss you," John young fingers clung to the telephone with keen hands. The plastic was cool and calming under his fingers.
"I miss you too, so much John," He paused, emotion brimming in his voice. "How's your new school, are you making lots of friends?"
"Yeah, three..." he paused chewing his lip and wondering if Sherlock and he were friends yet, "It's snowing here," John told him.
"Oohh, sound so exciting! I wish I was there Buddy."
"Me too. Are you driving lots of tanks?" John's eyes sparked at the thought, thinking of the toy ones in his room.
James Watson chuckled, "Yes, lots. I'll send you another picture if you'd like"
"Yes please!"
"Okay I'll... Oh, oh I've got to go John, I'll speak to you again soon okay?"
"Okay Daddy. I love you."
"I love you too Buddy, and your Mum."
The line went dead and John sighed as he put it back in the holder. He hadn't seen his father for one and a half years now, he had a notice board on the wall of his room that was dedicated to pictures of him. His favourite was one of him, his dad and his mum on holiday when he was five. He always took it with him when they stayed at his grandma's house.
"Are you okay Button?" John's mother ruffled his hair lightly before putting an arm around his shoulder.
"Yeah."
"You know your dad is a good man for being in the army. He's fighting for our country. He's a hero."
"A hero?" John furrowed his brow, "Like Superman?"
She laughed lightly and nodded, "We'll see him again soon I'm sure."
"I really really hope so."
"I do too ," She said quietly.
There was a dull silence before Emma Watson squeezed her son's shoulders, "How about some ice cream?"
"Mum! It's snowing, we can't have ice-cream."
"Hmm, maybe you're right. How about some hot chocolate instead?"
2.
It took another two days before the schools around the area reopened. John hadn't seen Sherlock since the time with the snow castle, even though he kept an eye out when he Nancy, Michael and James helped him build it the day after. When they'd finished their fingers were numb and their chests ached from breathing in the icy air, but their creation was something they could be proud of and John's mother made them all hot chocolate with mini marshmallows. The delectable scent filled the room, and the steam from their mugs created patterns on the windows, making them almost opaque. John drew pictures on the frosted glass until his mother caught him.
The young Watson was excited has the musty smell of forgotten sandwiches and pencil sharpening hit his nose, walking through the doorway and sitting down on the carpet with a little bounce. The lights above them gave an artificial yellow light and flickered occasionally on the windy Friday morning. His mood heightened even more when Sherlock sat down next to him and let out a quiet, hello John, under his breath.
"Hi," John replied, glancing to the side.
Sherlock didn't join in with any of the assemblies songs or even clap. He sat as still as a statue staring dead at the carpet, or occasionally looking up at John curiously, as though he was working out a math problem. Sherlock had the most inquisitive eyes that John had even seen, and having them on him made his palms sweat. When the assembly was over all the children scrambled to their feet and we're led out one by one with teachers.
"How is your snow Castle?" Sherlock inquired quietly while their row was waiting to leave.
"My friends helped me finish it," John revealed.
Sherlock gave a short nod and went back to his silent self. John felt oddly proud with the progress between them both, and found himself leaving the room with a smile on his face.
After that Sherlock often asked John small questions or greeted him, and then went back into himself. In a way it looked like he was unaware of everyone and everything around him when he did that, but John swore he could almost hear the sound of his brain whirring. From there it developed to John bravely attempting a conversation, managing a few sentences out of him before he closed himself away. He seemed to give a short sharp nod beforehand as though he was warning John that he was no longer available for discussion. John always wondered what was going on in his head but never asked what.
"Hey guys!" John smiled almost two weeks later.
The snow had turned to ice, to muddy grey slush along the roads, back to ice and then it had finally continued its course down the drains and beyond. The air was still clean and cold and rain was a common occurrence, washing the pavement and turning them into deadly ice rinks. The sky above was still a constant blanket of cloud, creating protection enough to stop the temperature dripping low enough to snow again.
Nancy turned around in her bubblegum coat with a stern expression, "John, we need to talk."
John's expression fell for a second before he gave a weak laugh, " What are you talking about?"
"It's about you and Sherlock. We can't be friends anymore," James said.
"What? Guys, please... " John trailed off as he took on their expressions. Deadly serious.
"We did warn you."
"But I...I...," John chewed his lip, they had. There was nothing more to say. He turned around and walked slowly to the other end of the playground with his shoulders hunched. He was stood on his own watching his ex-friends muck around for a while with a heavy feeling in his chest before he noticed Sherlock had moved to stand beside him at sometime. He smelt of woollen clothing with a hint of sweetness.
"Hello John."
"Hey," John replied, leaning back against the wall. It was freezing through his shirt and jumper and made him shudder.
"Why are you over here?"
"Because I have no friends, " John replied bitterly. He felt like he should own some hostile feelings towards Sherlock, after all it was partly his fault, but he didn't in the slightest.
"Neither do I," Sherlock replied, "All these children are embarrassingly stupid."
John smirked and looked at his shoes, "Could we have no friends together?"
"I do hope you realises that doesn't make sense," Sherlock turned head to look at John and raised both eyebrows, causing lines to appear on his forehead.
John chewed his lip, "Are you busy after school? You could come to my house," he suggested.
Sherlock narrowed his eyes to slits, showing only a flicker of the intense colour of his iris. After a few long seconds of deep thought he opened his eyes and gave his verdict, "Okay," a sharp nod followed and he turned back into a stony silence with melancholic features.
John gave a gratified smile as the bell rang, signalling the start of school. He had art first and Sherlock was sure to sit next to him, John had come to love watching him draw. He often stuck his tongue out of his mouth when he was concentrating hard and didn't particularly listen to the techniques that the teacher was demonstrating to them. However he did deem interested in the history of the artists that they were looking at.
3.
"Hey Mum, this is Sherlock. Can he stay for tea please?" John bounded up to mother with Sherlock following cautiously behind.
Emma pursed her lips and scanned Sherlock who stood behind John staring at his shoes, "Of course Dear. Hello...Sherlock."
Sherlock gave no reaction.
"Does he umm...do his parents know?"
John nodded, "His big brother will tell them."
"Okay, well come on you two. Let's get into the warm, how about Pizza for tea?"
"Yes!" John grinned, trotting along beside his mother and checking that Sherlock was following.
The pavements and roads were busy with school children and parents making the desired journey home. Large waves of bibble and babble filled the air as parents and children shared the facts and excitements of their day, along of course, with the odd groan and protest of parents rules and their future plans. John looked up at the sky and was grateful to see a break in the clouds, the sun's light was just poking through and giving the end of the day a warm haze of yellow. As much as he loved the winter and snow he was looking forward to being able to play in the sun and watch the flowers in their new garden sprout up with bursts of vibrant colour. Everything about winter was mostly grey and white, and John longed for the dazzling shades of green and the striking colour of the sky.
"How was your day boys?" John's mother asked, her high heels clip-clopping along the pavement in a skilled practise. She had tied her hair up in a neat bun out of the way, but during her working day a few strands had fallen down and were framing her elegant face.
"It was okay," John replied, "I can't wait to get home though."
Emma laughed, "Well boys, enjoy school while you can. Before you know it you'll wish you were back at pre-school."
After a fifteen minute walk John opened the door for Sherlock to walk inside. He did so hesitantly, pausing in the hallway and glancing around for a second before his eyes dropped back to his shoes.
"We're going to go in my room," John told his mum, almost grabbing Sherlock's hand to pull him along but then thinking better of it.
Sherlock followed him with a philosophical look in his eye, observing the simple decor of his surroundings. John hesitated outside his room, trying to think frantically if there was anything embarrassing in the room that Sherlock could find. Realising that even if it were true there was nothing he could do about it now, he turned the handle that was cool under his palm. The door swung open inwards and Sherlock walked in first. John found himself standing by the doorway waiting nervously for Sherlock's reaction and his verdict.
John's room was small in size but held a lot of objects. His walls were a spring green with white along the top and bottom, and his carpet was dark navy. The walls themselves were filled with shelves on three sides,apart from the wall next to the door where a large cork-board was settled. On the shelves were dozens of toys and knick knacks that John and collected. Many were figures of tanks, cars and helicopters. On one shelf there was a collection of small plastic army men stood in rows. Other items included neatly organised pens, pencils and crayons; videos stacked high on top of one another that John hadn't watched for years; colouring books, both completed and untouched, plain paper and a purple yoyo that his dad had given him and that John had never gotten the hang of. His green curtains were pulled aside, and the suns hesitant light was shining upon the cork-board. On it contained all the things that John had linked to his Dad, photo's, drawings and letters pinned carefully and with love. John's bed was neatly made with his green duvet tucked in around the edge where it was pressed against the wall. On his pillow were his tank pajama folded into a neat square along with his brown teddy, and on the floor neatly side by side were his fluffy warm slippers.
Sherlock spent some time looking around and taking it all in, a wistful look on his face. He touched nothing and didn't move from the spot in the centre of the room, he simply turned around slowly as though he was absorbing and making a mental note of every object in the room. John soon realised that he probably was, he had the feeling that Sherlock's mind was like a sponge...or maybe a vortex sucking the world around him in. As more time passed John's heart rate got steadily higher, he swallowed nervously and played with his hands. He didn't understand why he was so anxious, but now Sherlock seemed to be his only possible friend and a bedroom says a lot about a person. Sherlock wasn't just taking in the room he was taking in John. It was an important moment.
Eventually Sherlock turned back to John with a straight expression, "So...your favourite colour is green?" he asked.
The corners of John's mouth quivered and he smiled, a smile that soon turned into a laugh, "Good guess, what's yours?"
Sherlock's shoulders hitched and then fell in a shrug, "I've never really thought about it."
"Well why don't you choose now?" John suggested, sitting on the edge of his bed.
Sherlock glanced around the room again, "I'm not sure...red maybe?"
John nodded, "That's a good choice," he supported.
"Not enough to make my whole room look like it is bathed in blood though," Sherlock said seriously.
John laughed and blushed, "Yeah, mines probably a bit much."
Sherlock shook his head, "I like it. It's very...devoted."
John blushed even redder, "Err...Thank you."
It looked like they could turn out to be friends after all.
A/n: Thank you all for your follows on the previous chapter. If you're interested in more please leave a comment telling me so.
