Part 4: Dinner
Sherlock and John entered the dining hall, grabbed trays, filled them with mashed potatoes, ground beef, and green beans, then took the seats in the far back corner at table 12.
"Is the food always this bad?" John asked.
He lifted his fork that had mashed potatoes on it and turned it to the side, watching as the food slowly slid down the fork and plopped down into the pile of mashed potatoes.
"Yes, which is why I don't eat."
Sherlock was sitting with his back against the backrest his legs stretched out and his hands resting on his stomach. His food was sitting untouched.
Sherlock rolled his eyes when he saw Anderson walking over to them. He sighed loud enough for Anderson to hear him. John turned around to see what Sherlock looked so annoyed about.
"Hello, John," Anderson said ignoring Sherlock.
"Hello," John said turning back to his food.
"Do you want to sit with us?" Anderson asked. "I wouldn't want you to sit alone."
"But I'm…not alone," John said looking up to Sherlock.
"You know Anderson, just because your vacancy sign is on, doesn't mean that the client will be willing to pay to stay there. John doesn't want to sit with you," Sherlock said, his arms now crossed.
Anderson rolled his eyes.
"That's his decision. Not that you're much company anyways. Always sitting to yourself. You know John…He never had anyone sit with him before. Not one to have any friends. In fact," Anderson turned to Sherlock, "can you name one friend that you have?"
Sherlock looked away.
"And you know what else, he's always meddling in everyone else's business, like a stalker. He listens in on peoples conversations and finds out your secrets. Its…. Creepy." Anderson continued.
"I don't listen to anyone's conversations. I stay away from people, like you pointed out. I simply observe. Something you have no concept of with that tiny little brain of yours. And you want to know what else," Sherlock leaned in and with a whisper he said, "You're secretly afraid that everyone here hates you, and judging by how much you're pursuing John, I think you're right."
Sherlock leaned back in his chair.
Anderson glared at Sherlock.
He turned to John with a sympathetic look, "If he's the one you choose to sit with, be my guest, but as you can see, he's not a people person."
Anderson turned back to Sherlock, "And I do have friends. They're sitting there waiting for me. We were just concerned for John's well being, we didn't want him to be sucked into your…antics."
"Shut up Anderson, you're so dull," Sherlock said, his nose crinkling up in disgust.
"It's your choice John. You can stay with this, freak or you can sit with normal people."
John was half paying attention to their insults toward each other and half paying attention to that boy Sherlock had pointed out that afternoon by the waterfall. While they were getting food, there was an announcement about a missing phone, and now, that boy was looking down at his feet, talking to the counselor, Lestrade, Sherlock had said he stole from. Then he saw it. The boy took the phone out from his pocket and handed it to the counselor who grabbed his arm and pulled him off to the offices. John watched this in amazement that Sherlock had been right, and right then and there he made his decision. When he came back to the conversation he heard Sherlock mocking Anderson.
"Come one John, you don't want to sit with him," Anderson said.
John huffed out a breath of air and with a half smile he said, "I'll stay here, but thanks for the invite…uhhh, what was your name again?"
Anderson stood up straight in surprise, and growled. He glared at Sherlock one last time, then John, and walked away.
John was smiling down at his food. He looked up at Sherlock, blushing and smiling.
Sherlock smiled back and began to laugh. John laughed with him and soon they were laughing so hard that it was hard to stop.
"Shhh," John said through his giggles, "Anderson's going to think we're laughing at him…"
They got quiet for a second, but lost it again when they made eye contact.
When the horn was blown for everyone to go back to their cabins their laughs finally died down.
They got ready for sleep, changing into pajamas, washing their teeth and face, and finally settled down into their respective cots.
The light was off, but both of them knew that neither of them were sleeping. They laid there in silence for a little over five minutes until John broke the silence.
"When Anderson said you didn't have any friends…what did he mean? I mean you have to have friends, everyone has friends," John said.
Sherlock was a loss for words and that was a new feeling for him.
"It's okay, I don't have very many friends either," John said.
Sherlock turned his head toward John, staying quiet.
"I used to be depressed," John confessed, after a couple seconds of silence.
"I know," Sherlock said.
"It was that obvious?"
"Well, to me, yes, to others, not at all. You're very good at hiding your scars."
"I," John lifted his arm and looked at it. He knew what his arm looked like better than anyone else and even he couldn't see the scars. "I thought they had gone away…"
"Well they have, almost, but you see," Sherlock got up from his cot and flicked on the light. He kneeled down on the side of John's bed and grabbed his arm.
John pulled it back and looked at Sherlock in shock. Sherlock's fingers were lightly brushing his arm, their eyes locked on one another. John looked back down at his arm and moved it forward, giving Sherlock permission to proceed.
"You see," Sherlock said turning John's forearm up, "All of them are almost completely invisible, meaning you've never cut very deep. You can't really see anything. But when we were in the three legged race I could see two faint scars, completely straight right here," Sherlock said brushing his finger across John's upper arm.
"You cut deeper on this part of your arm because it hurt less, and there was less chance of bleeding out. Those were the last two cuts you ever made weren't they," Sherlock said his eyes looking from the straight lined scars and into John's eyes.
John nodded, speechless.
"Your mum found out didn't she? Got you a therapist…which is why you've come here," Sherlock could see everything mapping out in his head.
Again John nodded.
"I'm glad you've stopped," Sherlock said. He fell back onto his butt from the kneeling position he'd been in. He didn't want to leave John's side, but he was too scared to sit on John's cot.
"When I asked you to tell me what you knew about me, why didn't you say this?" John asked.
"I…I don't know. I normally just say everything…but with you… I like you," Sherlock confessed.
Johns cheeks turned red as he smiled at what Sherlock had said.
"You, like me?" John said.
Sherlock looked up, his mouth turning up in a smile.
"Well isn't it obvious?"
"Not to me,"
"do…do you like me?" Sherlock asked.
"Of course," John said.
"Really? I mean I know I can be cold, and closed off, and-"
John leaned down over the cot and grabbed Sherlock's chin, bringing it up. He placed his lips on Sherlock's. Sherlock tensed up in surprise, his eyes wide, then as the kiss continued his body relaxed, his eyes closed, and he leaned into the kiss.
John pulled away and sat up on his cot. Sherlock sat there on the floor, his eyes slowly opening. He placed his fingers on his lips, then looked up at John.
"So you like me," Sherlock said.
"You're an idiot," John joked.
Sherlock laughed and got up from the floor and sat next to John on his cot. He placed his hand on John's neck and pulled him closer. He looked down at John's lips and readjusted his sitting position as they slowly got closer to one another. Their foreheads rested on one another's, John staring into Sherlock's blue eyes, and then the blue vanished and their lips were upon each other once again.
Authors note: Sorry for the late update, haven't had time in the past couple of days. I hope you enjoyed the update feel free to review, favorite, or follow.
