Sherlock decides they need to go shopping on Saturday. For one thing, it'd been almost two weeks since he bought anything, and he was having withdrawals. And two, he was so very tired of John showing up to school wearing whatever is in his closet.
Sherlock picks him up to go to the mall, and he feels very excited. Of course, he loves shopping, but he is actually really excited to be out with John.
He's finding more and more that this arrangement isn't so bad after all. Two weeks ago, he didn't even want to learn John's name. And now he's sweating nervously on his way to pick John up.
John coolly hops into the car without opening the door.
Sherlock laughs. "John!"
John smiles widely. He pulls on the black vest he's wearing over a blue and purple shirt. Sherlock gave him that vest just last night. "How's my outfit?" he asks. "Alright to be seen with me?"
Sherlock laughs again as he starts to back out of the driveway. "Yes. You look…actually, quite handsome."
John blushes and looks out the window.
Sherlock parks the car and they walk to the entrance hand in hand. John's palm sweats ridiculously, but Sherlock only squeezes his hand tighter. Sherlock's hand is perfectly dry, and John senses he isn't nervous at all.
When they get inside, Sherlock lets him go. John pushes away disappointment, he'd love to be seen holding Sherlock's hand, but he doesn't say anything or reach for Sherlock.
"Where to first?" he asks.
"My favorite store," Sherlock says. "This way."
John follows, but he already knows that Sherlock's favorite store is one of the most expensive places in the whole mall. He doesn't have much cash on him, just enough to treat Sherlock to dinner, so he plans to only look around the store.
The first thing that catches his eye is the case of sunglasses. They're beautiful. Every once in a while, Sherlock wears jet black sunglasses and they look gorgeous on him. John picks up a pair of black Ray-Ban Wayfarers with lenses that change from blue to purple.
"These are great," he says, trying them on.
"Wow," Sherlock mutters.
John looks at him. "What?"
"Nothing, you just…" Sherlock diverts his gaze. "You should get them."
John laughs. "How much do they even cost, I wonder? I couldn't afford—"
Sherlock places a hand over John's. "They're on me," he says, his smile wide. He digs in his back pocket and takes out a credit card with his mother's name on it.
John can tell he's not going to take no for an answer.
They shop for a very long time, but Sherlock, believe it or not, prefers just walking around outside the stores with John. As they left the first store, John's hand brushed against his as they walked and John pulled it away as if he was shocked.
"Oh, sorry," John muttered.
When they left the second store, Sherlock touched his hand on purpose.
When they left the third store, Sherlock made an excuse that they had to break left, down an escalator, so he hooked his index finger into John's pinky and ring finger to hold onto him. When he touched John, he could've sworn he felt John's pulse stutter in his ring finger. And Sherlock loved the way it felt, for some odd reason.
They've walked around the rest of the time like that, barely holding hands but touching more intimately because of the innocence. Victor never touches Sherlock innocently. John touches Sherlock like he's afraid Sherlock's going to break into a million pieces.
John makes Sherlock go eat at the pizza place, and Sherlock knows it's because John wants to treat him for dinner. Sherlock doesn't mind, he just wants John to feel comfortable. Sherlock even eats a little bit, even though he's not all that hungry.
On Monday night, while John is fast asleep, Sherlock calls. As usual.
"What?" John answers.
"John, I need your help."
"I don't care what you wear, if you paint your fingernails, or if you wear lipstick. Please, just let me sleep."
"John, it's not about any of that! I need real help!"
John sighs and sits up. "Alright, alright, what is it?"
"Okay, pay attention. Are you listening?"
"Yes, yes."
"Okay. What…do I…want to be…when I grow up?"
John opens his eyes for the first time. "Are you fucking joking?"
"Of course not, John! I have an entire report due tomorrow and—"
"Goodbye, Sherlock."
"No, John! John!"
"What?"
"What did you write?"
John hangs up.
Sherlock has an early dance practice the next morning. It's inside the dance room inside the school, where there's the giant floor length mirrors and ballet barres. Sherlock walks in late, as usual.
The girls are all sitting on the floor stretching.
"Nice of you to join us," Sally mutters as Sherlock takes a seat to change his shoes.
"Sorry," he says. "I had a late night."
Sally and Irene exchange a knowing look.
"Late night, huh?" Irene asks.
"Yup," Sherlock says, oblivious as to what they mean. He looks up at them staring at him with smirks on their faces. "What?"
"Late night…with Watson?"
It clicks in Sherlock's head. "What?! No!"
They laugh and take places in front of the barre.
"It's really not like that," Sherlock says, joining them. He easily lifts his leg onto the barre and rests his ankle over it, then extends his foot flat. He's better at this simple task than any other girl taking place at the barre.
"What's it like, then?" Irene asks.
Sherlock shrugs, not losing his balance at all.
"Haven't you even kissed yet?" Sally asks next.
Sherlock can't help but smile. No, they haven't, but the thought…
"So then…what's going on with Vic?"
Sherlock slowly frowns. He hasn't even thought of Victor in the past few weeks. Victor hasn't even called.
Sherlock just shrugs again.
When they finish at the barre, Sherlock makes them go through the first steps of their routine for the upcoming competition. It was choreographed by their coach, but since he can remember things right after seeing it, he shows the girls the steps no problem.
All of the young first year girls who made the team glare at him. He knows they've all been dancing for a long time and it takes the first years an entire year to get it through their heads that he's better than them. But for now, they all hate him. And it only makes him strive to do better.
When practice finally ends half an hour before school starts, all of them go to the locker room to shower and change. Most of the girls are fine with Sherlock being in there while they're already in their underwear, but he goes next door to the boy's locker room to shower alone.
When he gets back, Sally and Irene stop talking when he enters the room. He drops his bag on the bench between rows of lockers and sits to pull his shoes on.
"Great outfit," Sally says. She sounds suspicious, like she's hiding something.
"Thanks..."
The three of them exit the locker room together while all the other students in school are filling the halls. They walk through crowds to get to their hallway, and when they arrive, John is waiting for Sherlock with Greg, Anderson, and Sebastian.
The girls push to walk in front of Sherlock then, purposefully walking between the three boys.
"Hey John," they purr in unison. Their hips sway and each of the boys, even Greg, look down at their backsides as they walk.
Sherlock is jealous, he knows that. Now he's figured out that they were talking about John when he entered the locker room, and he knows now that they are both clearly attracted to John.
So, to fix that, he stops next to John and wraps both arms around his neck, joining his hands to rest on John's opposite shoulder.
"Hello," he says, nearly in a whisper.
John looks at him right away, easily tearing his eyes away from the girls.
"Hi," John whispers back.
Sherlock's stomach flips. He wants to lean in and kiss John, right there in front of everyone, but he doesn't. He settles for John's smile, a smile so large that it seems like John hasn't smiled all morning until he saw Sherlock.
"Okay you two," Anderson says, patting Sherlock's back. "No eye sex in the hallway."
The boys laugh, even Greg, then leave John and Sherlock in the hall.
"Walk you to class?" John asks.
Sherlock nods, then walks down the hall with John, John's arm around his waist and one of his arms around John's shoulders.