Chapter Three
I am laying in my bed. I hear tapping on my window. I get up hesitantly to see who it is. It's Sherlock. He's in his pajamas. I open my window.
"What are you doing? It's in the middle of the night." I speak in a loud whisper.
"Let me in. I can't get to your window." He replies back in the same hushed voice. I shut my window and quicken my pace downstairs, quietly. I unlock the front door quietly and let him inside. He gives me a kiss on the lips. I back away in shock.
"What are you thinking? It's one am." I whisper.
"I'm thinking that I missed you, and couldn't wait to see you." He replies back quietly.
"You're lucky that we don't have school tomorrow. Come on." I sigh. "You know, you could have just texted me."
"It's not the same, John. I miss holding you in my arms." I stop and look at him. I smile a little. I take his hand and lead him upstairs. His face is flushed. I shut the door behind him and pin him up against it. His face is filled with surprise. I kiss him roughly on the lips. He gives me the same kiss back. His finger get laced into my hair. I grip his curly hair gently. I lift him up. He wraps his legs around me. I step back and sit on the bed. He looks at me with confusion.
"I won't do anything unless you wanted me to."
"I rather wait. Sorry."
"Don't be sorry. It's your body." He kisses me. I kiss him back. We lay down and place kisses all over each other, until we drift off to sleep.
The next morning pours in. My arms are wrapped around Sherlock's sleeping body. I can feel his body breathing. It feels soothing. I open my eyes slowly. I smile. I got to wake up with the one I love. I rub his stomach softly, then leave kisses on his neck. His stomach is warm. This wakes him up.
"Sorry. Didn't mean to wake you up."
"Who says you woke me up? Maybe I was awake this whole time." He turns to face me and nuzzles my face with his. I giggle. I slide my hand under his shirt and rub his back. He smiles. I kiss his forehead.
"Hey, John. Mom wants to know-" My sister walks into my room. She stops mid sentence and freezes up in horror. She runs downstairs, shouting for our mother. I jump over Sherlock and run after her. Sherlock sits upright in my bed. I grab my sister by her robe, but she fights with me. She wins and catches up with our mother.
"John has Sherlock in his bedroom!" She declares. My eyes widen in dismay.
"Well, you had champagne in your room."
"You bloody arse! Stay out of my room!"
"Both of you, enough! You, get Sherlock out of your room and back home. You, stop buying alcohol without my permission. I understand that you are of legal age, but that doesn't mean you can go and drink up a storm." She points at both of us before returning to cooking breakfast. I walk back upstairs, but before I did, I stick out my tongue at my sister. She returns the same gesture. I look at Sherlock.
"I heard what happened. I'm sorry."
"It's not your fault. Now, come on. My mom wants me to drive you home."
"Alright." He takes my hand and I take his as we walk downstairs. There is something on my mind, and I had to plan this out. If I didn't ask soon enough, I might be too late.
A few days have past since Sherlock stayed the night. I want to make a grand entrance today, because prom is a few weeks, and I want to ask Sherlock to prom. Sherlock is rummaging through his locker, not noticing that I walk into the school hallway. I am wearing a suit and tie. I'm also holding a sign saying 'It's not getting to late to say yes.' I get down on one knee.
"Sherlock, I've know since Year 11, and I am thankful for three crazy years with you. I love you, so very much. Will you go to prom with me?"
"Yes, John! Yes!" He exclaims. He grabs a hold of me, and we fall backwards. I laugh.
"You're so cute." He smiles. Our classmates begin to clap for us. I guess they finally accept our relationship, well, except the rugby team and the ballet class. I wasn't sure why. They weren't going to split us up, no matter how hard they tried. That, I know I was sure of.
Prom came around sooner than we had thought. My mother is fixing my tie. She smiles.
"My little boy is growing up."
"Mom. It's just prom."
"I know. You look so handsome. Sherlock will love you. I promise." A knock on the door interrupts my mother fixing my tie. She finishes then answers the door. It's Sherlock. I look at him and my jaw drops. His hair is slicked back, except one short curl, which I thought looked so cute.
"So, shall we head out?"
"Wait, I need pictures." My mother declares. She searches the house for her camera. She finally founds it and takes several pictures of us. Sherlock covers my eyes as he leads me outside.
"What's going on Sherlock? What are you wanting me to see?"
"Okay, open." He announces as uncovers my eyes. A long, black limo is parked in front of my house.
"You rented a limo?! That's amazing!" I pull him into a celebratory kiss. He smiles.
"Shall we head to the school?"
"Yes."
After the driver takes us to the school, we head out of the limo. We can hear the bass from the speakers from the parking lot. We hold each others hand as we enter the gym. A pop song is blaring on the speakers. I pull Sherlock onto the dance floor. He almost trips on the girl's dress.
"Hey! Watch it! Wait, you're Sherlock, right?!" She speaks over the music.
"Yes! Why?!"
"I'm Molly! I saw your performance last month! You're really good!"
"Thank you!" He replies. I wave at her. She waves back and I take Sherlock's hand and start dancing with him. I didn't want this moment to end. It is perfect. I am getting parched.
"You thirsty?!"
"Yeah!" He answers. I head over to the punch bowl. I feel a tapping on my shoulder. I thought it was Sherlock, but it wasn't. It is Alex and Sarah. Alex is the one who beat Sherlock and I up. They were wearing matching colors.
"I thought people that were on the rugby team can't mingle with the ballet class?"
"Yeah, well. It took me some convincing, but Alex is really sweet. We're still mad at you. You're ruining Sherlock. Now, we'll show you how we deal with people who destroy others." She proclaims as her and Alex push me into the punch bowl. People start to laugh at me. Sherlock runs up to me and helps me to the bathroom. I punch the wall in anger. I am not angry because they ruin my suit, but they humiliated me on a very special night. Sherlock grabs my balled up fist before I can punch the wall again. I turn at him, with a scowl on my face.
"Don't, for me, please." He urges. I sigh. He's right. My scowl disappears. I hug him, and he wraps his arms around me. "Now, let's go back out there and have a great time. I want to slow dance with you."
"I would like that." He takes my hand and walks with me to the dance floor. My head is held up high. A slow song is playing. He places his hands on my waist, and I place my hands on his shoulders. We sway side to side. I close my eyes, and breathe him in. The sweet scent of his cologne fills my nose. He's looking down at me. He places his hand on my cheek. I look up at him with wistful blue eyes. I move my head to kiss his hand. He smiles. The song is almost over, but I didn't want it to be over. I want us to stay in this moment, forever.
"You picked me, and I am grateful." Sherlock whispers into my ear. I smile, which makes him smile.
"Kiss me." Which he does. The sweetness of his mouth overwhelms me to the core. 'Don't stop.' I plead to myself. He doesn't. His lips mend with mine contemporaneously. My hands slide down to his waist, and I yank him closer. He grins. The song ends. He pulls back for a moment.
"Want to get out of here?"
"Oh, god yes." I take his hand, and lead him out of the gym. We head back to my place. It was midnight by the time we got home. My parents are sleeping, so we have to be quiet. We sneak upstairs. I sit Sherlock down on my bed.
"I'm going to shower, then wash my clothes. You can wait right here. After I'm done, we'll go to that twenty-four hour pub that is down the road, okay?" He dips his head. I grab my bath towel, and walk to the bathroom.
After I shower, I throw my clothes into the washer machine. I walk back upstairs to Sherlock. Sherlock looks at me and gulps. I forgot I was still in my towel.
"Sorry, do you want me to put some clothes on?"
"N-No. You're f-fine." He stutters; his face flushed. I grab a change of clothes and walk to the bathroom to change. Now, my face is burning. I change into my pajamas and walk back to Sherlock.
"Sorry about that. It won't happen again." I tell him. He gets up and strides toward me. He yanks me by the pocket on my shirt, gently, and leans down towards my ear.
"Maybe I want it to happen again." He murmurs. My face begins to burn again. I glance at him. He has a grin on his face. I embrace him. Our kiss is interrupted by the ding of the dryer. My suit was clean. I run downstairs silently. I change into my suit in the laundry room.
"Sherlock, I'm ready." I speak in a loud whisper. He walks downstairs gracefully. He takes my arm and we walk down to the pub.
We got drunk that night. I stumble home with him. He has his arm wrap over my shoulders. We stagger upstairs. We get bored and decide to play a game. I write Sherlock Holmes on a sticky note, and he writes Madonna on a sticky note. He tells me to close my eyes. I listen to him and he sticks the note on my forehead. I tell him to do the same, and I stick the note on his forehead.
"Am I a vegetable?" I ask him, with my eyes open.
"You, or the thing?" He points at me. We both snicker.
"Funny!" Sherlock looks down.
"Thank you." He replies bashfully.
"Come on." Sherlock raises his head.
"No, you're not a vegetable."
"It's your go."
"Errr...am I human?
"Sometimes."
"Can't have 'sometimes.' Has to be, um..."
"Yes, you're human."
"Okay." He leans woozily forward, bracing his upper arms on his legs. "And am I a man?"
"Yep."
"Tall?" I hold my hands wide.
"Not as tall as people think."
"Hmm. Nice?
"Ish."
"Clever?"
"I'd say so."
"You would?" He asks. I chuckle. "Mmm, am I important?"
"To s-some people."
"Do "people"...like me?" He makes vague air-quotes around the word.
"Er, no, they don't. You tend to rub 'em up the wrong way."
"Okay." He replies. I snicker. Sherlock slumps back and then leans forward again. "Am I the current King of England?"
"Are you ...?" I cackle with laughter. "You know we don't have a king?"
"Don't we?"
"No." I chuckle again briefly. He sits back again.
"Your go." Unfolding my legs, I shift forward until I am sitting right on the edge of my bed. I instantly start to slide off and reach out to brace myself with one hand on Sherlock's right knee. I push myself back a little, then Sherlock and I look down at my hand. I pull it away and hold both my hands out, shrugging. "I don't mind." Sherlock shrugs to indicate that he's not bothered either.
"Am I a woman?" Sherlock looks at me for a second, then snorts laughter. He chuckles for a few moments. "What?"
"Yes."
"Am I...pretty?" I point up to my forehead. "This." He props his head up on one fist.
"Err...Er, beauty is a construct based entirely on childhood impressions, influences and role models."
"Yeah, but am I a pretty lady?" I blink owlishly at Sherlock, who leans forward and screws up his eyes to peer at the sticky note.
"I don't know who you are. I don't know who you're supposed to be."
"You picked the name!" I shout. Sherlock flails a hand towards another part of the room.
"Ah, but I picked it at random from one of your sister's magazines."
"You're not really getting the hang of this game, are you, Sherlock?"
"So I am human, I'm not as tall as people think I am..." He sits back. "I'm-I'm nice-ish..." I stretch out my feet and prop them next to my boyfriend's legs. "...clever, important to some people, but I tend to rub them up the wrong way." He laughs with delight. "Got it."
"Go on, then."
"I'm you, aren't I?" He answers. I couldn't help but laugh. I kiss him on the lips. He smooches me back. I didn't remember what happened the rest of that night, but I didn't care. I was with Sherlock. That's all that matters.