John insisted they stop off and buy something to bring to Carter's flat. They couldn't show up empty-handed. Sherlock wanted to buy an expensive bottle of wine, nearly 50 quid, but John suggested beer would better suit the evening. Besides, he laughed, if Sherlock started off bringing over the good stuff on the first night, Carter might become accustomed to lavish gifts. Sherlock had to learn to pace himself if he wanted to play the dating game. They also brought pretzels and chips along with them as well.
Sherlock wasn't sure how much he should trust John's advice as he'd hadn't kept a girlfriend longer than a few months since they'd lived together, but he had to admit, John knew far more than he did.
He was less nervous than last time he'd gone out now that John along with him. Carter and his mates lived in a pleasant brownstone with large windows located in a decent, residential area. It was a three-story building and their flat perched on the top.
Sherlock paused a moment before waking up to the door and looked up. He saw the attic room had a flickering light burning. Carter might up there right now. He thought about it would be like to be up there with him and what they might do. He felt that same stirring of lust he'd had on the first day he'd met him. He wanted to touch and be touched. Carter had suggested that and more.
"You ready for this?" John asked him. "You must really like him."
"John," Sherlock said. "I don't know what I feel for him, yet. I like how he wants me. I want him too. I've been feeling different lately. I've wanted to be with another person. Every time I see you go out on a date or you bring a girl home, I want it too. To be with someone."
"Why haven't you ever said before now?" John asked.
"I don't know. It's only recently that I felt something missing. The work fulfills me. I don't even notice other people when I'm working, but sometimes I lie in bed on the nights I do sleep, and find myself lonely."
"That's a good thing, Sherlock," John said stuffing his hands into the pockets of his jeans and looking at the cracks on the sidewalk. "Not the loneliness thing, but wanting someone in your life. That's a good thing."
The only other person I've ever liked before now was you. I mean..John," he stopped suddenly realizing how he must sound. And we…don't," he couldn't finish his sentence.
"I know, Sherlock," John said softly. "We don't do we? Even though everyone assumes we do."
Sherlock suddenly wanted to go home. Being here was far too much to bear and home was comfortable, and home was John in his chair reading the paper. Why did he want more than he already had with John?
Because, it wasn't enough anymore. Carter offered more.
He squared his shoulders and decided to press on. John was here with him. He'd do fine.
They rang the buzzer, and a male voice asked, "Yes?" followed by a female giggle.
"Sherlock and John," Sherlock said feeling antsy already. Obviously, there were going to be more people present than advertised. The security door popped opened, and they climbed two flights of stairs to the third-floor.
Before they could knock, the door to the flat opened up, and the pair were greeted by Carter's roommate David and his girlfriend Trisha. They were both in their early twenties and very pleased to meet Sherlock. Electronic pop music played subtly in the background.
"Come in, both of you," David said waving them in. He, like Carter, looked very fit under a modest button-up and khaki trousers,his shapely feet bare. "Carter's upstairs. He'll be down in a bit."
Trisha beamed at both of them and shook their hands. "I've seen ya both in the papers," she said in a strong Northern accent. "You solved that girl's murder last month. The one with orthodontist boyfriend who kept her locked in his basement?"
"Yes," Sherlock while said looking for a place to sit. He found an empty sofa and sat primly in the direct middle of it while replying, "That one took at bit to figure out. But we solved, right John?"
"Yeah," John said smiling. "Brought some adult beverages," he said holding up his bags.
"Thanks," David said. "Let's get those open."
Someone pressed a beer into Sherlock's hand, and he took a cursory sip for politeness sake. He hated beer, but he smiled and nodded as if he loved it. He watched John for cues. John leaned against the kitchen counter and looked about the room. He seemed relaxed.
John and David struck up a conversation easily, and Sherlock also began to relax letting his spine curve into the back of the sofa. He could do this. He just wished Carter were here.
Trisha took the opportunity to sit next to him on the couch. Her fruity perfume wafted over him as she settled very near him. "So, you and Carter are dating?" she asked twirling a strand of her long brown hair on a finger.
Sherlock nodded. He'd promised not to deduce Carter, but he couldn't keep himself from observing Trisha. Judging from her dilated pupils, she'd recently taken something recreational and was feeling the effects. "You're very different from Cart's last guy," she said conversationally.
"Oh?" Sherlock said. He wasn't entirely sure he wanted this information. But, Trisha seemed determined to deliver it. "You're much more mature. And, a lot more handsome. His last fella was into some weird shit," she said tracing a finger down Sherlock's forearm and punctuating the last word with a poke.
Sherlock's brow furrowed. Another reason he didn't date was staring him right in the face now. People came with personal experiences that shaped them. Just like John's military experience and previous girlfriends had worked to create his best friend, he'd have to realize Carter was not a blank slate.
Trisha continued, "His old beau, Frank, liked chasing stories about serial killers, and murderers. He was earning a degree in forensic science, and it was his hobby, I guess. He said it was for research. He wanted to write a book about European serial killers. He used to say American serial killers got all the attention, but there were plenty of high-profile killers here in the UK. Right adamant he was about it too!"
Sherlock's eyes caught the telltale sign of a lie in the way she looked away quickly. Her story also had a rehearsed quality to it.
Sherlock couldn't help himself so he asked, "Why'd they break up?"
"Oh that," her eyes darted away again. "I guess I let him tell you that part. But, I for one am glad to see the last of that bloke. He had this intensity," and she fluttered her fingers in front of her face, "that creeped me out a bit. But now, our little Carter's got himself a detective."
Sherlock didn't know what to say to in response to "got himself a detective" so he stayed quiet.
To his relief, Carter finally appeared. "Hey, Sherlock," he said greeting him with a happy grin. "Thanks for coming over," he said and sat next to him. Carter sat so close their thighs brushed together. John's eyes roved over the two of them, and his laugh stopped for just a second before he turned back to David to answer a question.
Carter found his hand and laced his fingers through Sherlock's. Time seemed to slow down a moment, and Sherlock saw John's eyes flick back to the two of them, and he inhaled deliberately. To an untrained eye, most people wouldn't have noticed a thing. But Sherlock noticed.
"You're so cute together," Trisha cooed at them. Sherlock kept his smile firmly plastered on his face. While he liked Carter's warm hand in his, he didn't like the attention it earned him. He wondered how long he'd have to endure it before he could disengage. But Carter sensed his discomfort and stood up pulling Sherlock off the couch and away from Trisha's perfume.
"Did you meet David?" he asked, and Sherlock nodded politely.
David had just finished laughing at something John had said to him, and he turned his gaze on Sherlock. "Carter's been telling us all about you, Mate. Can't stop raving about his crime-solving detective," he said easily. "Yeah, I can see it, Cart," the man said giving Sherlock the once over.
"What?" Sherlock asked feeling a slight indignation rising in him.
"He said you were a looker. We've all see you in the papers, but yeah, you've got a little something extra in person." Sherlock blushed at these words. He knew it was supposed to be a compliment, but it made him feel self-conscious.
"Hey," John said seeing Sherlock's discomfort. "He can't help it. Brainy is the new sexy," and Sherlock smiled at the "in" joke. "There's no crime this man can't solve, no problem too complex or subtle," John said heaping it on, with the look of admiration, always present when he referred to Sherlock's detective abilities, on his face.
Carter watched John as he spoke and subconsciously leaned closer into Sherlock's side, "Tell us about the new one?" Carter asked. "If you can speak about it? Yeah?"
"I don't see why not," he said. So, with John's help, Sherlock told the room about the case they'd just solved. He had their full attention. Carter especially stood enraptured, captivated. And, when John spoke, he still watched only Sherlock.
"Hey, where's Ian?" Dave asked when Sherlock finished. "He'd love to hear this."
"Who's Ian?" John asked.
"He's our other flat mate. I think he's out buying more beer. He texted me a bit ago and said he'd bring a pizza," David replied.
That seemed to please the room, but Sherlock couldn't help but groan inwardly. Pizza meant eating and eating meant more talking with others.
"How about a game of darts, John?" Dave asked.
"Sure," John said amicably. "I'll warn you, though, I'm pretty good."
"I'm better!" Trisha said laughing and opened a cupboard to retrieve the darts stored there. "Hang the board."
Sherlock wasn't sure she should handle projectile weapons in her current state, but since John was a doctor, he'd let him sort that out.
"While they're occupied, let me show you my room," Carter said low Sherlock's ear.
He felt the curious turn in his stomach that was half desire and half terror. He remembered his Uni days vividly. Each time he'd let a new person into his life, he'd felt the same terror of wondering if he were good enough, if he were doing it right. Those same feelings washed over him now. He did want to finish what they'd started in the park. He caught John's eye as Carter led him up a small staircase leading to his attic room and hoped his conflicting emotions didn't show on his face.
