John sighed deeply, happily, and patted his friend's knee. After a while, John said, "Dinner?" They got up and had an undisturbed dinner at Angelo's - even Sherlock ate - and afterwards John smirked. "Dance, Lockie?"
Sherlock set down his glass, glancing over to the couples on the floor. "You really meant it, didn't you?" he huffed, but couldn't hide his smile, "Do you want to lead or follow, little soldier?"
John narrowed his eyes. "I'm not little," he protested, but he got up and offered his hand. "I'll follow, that's what I do best after all." He grinned.
Sherlock laughed sweetly but genuinely at that, and swept John into his arms on the small dance floor. "Any dance you are partial to?" he asked in his smooth voice, as he gazed down at him.
John grinned, trying to keep his soldier-cool now that he was so close to Sherlock, and shrugged. "You're leading, Lockie. I'll follow." He smirked and waited.
Sherlock listened for a quick moment before he picked up the beat and began dancing to it, leading John along. He had his arm wound protectively around the other's back as they danced, allowing himself to just submit to the music like he did while playing violin, rather than let himself think horrid thoughts about how John would rather be doing this with someone else.
John found it very easy to follow Sherlock's guidance, and almost leaned in to rest his cheek to Sherlock's shoulder. If it was possible to feel safe during a dance, then John definitely felt safe now. He sighed happily and then beamed up at Sherlock's face. "You are a liar," he said after a while with a fond voice.
"Mm? Why's that?" the detective whispered softly in his ear, drawing him in a little closer to his chest. He looked down at him expectantly, a smile lighting up his features.
"You said you couldn't dance," John explained softly, trying very hard not to stare at Sherlock's beautiful face. "But look at us."
"Had to learn when I was little," he explained, squeezing John's hand gently, "but what about you?"
"What about me? How I learned to dance?" John smirked. "Taught myself."
Sherlock raised an eyebrow, "You taught yourself well," he smirked back, "you're exceptionally good."
John chuckled. "Oh, shut up." He was spun around by Sherlock, though, and the chuckle turned into a giggle. "Oh, I love this! We should have done this way earlier."
"Your giggling is absolutely adorable," Sherlock grinned, pulling him back close to himself and moving him happily and securely in his arms.
John laughed softly and even pressed a little closer. "I will forgive you for now," John said, "But I am not adorable. I'm a tough army doctor-to-be, so be nice."
"Ooh, scary," Sherlock giggled playfully, squeezing his hand again, "wouldn't want to mess with you!"
John laughed and managed to dip Sherlock despite him not leading. He laughed heartily at Sherlock's face as he hauled him in again. "How was that, huh?"
A bit breathless, Sherlock responded proudly, "Don't make me do that to you!"
John laughed heartily at that, and held Sherlock closely against him when Angelo put on a slower song. "Oh, I'd like to see you try, just don't drop me!"
"Better when it's unexpected," Sherlock smirked, allowing John to wrap his arms around his neck while his own found their way around the soldier's waist. John felt so warm and perfect up against him like this, that he wished it would last forever.
John hummed softly and grinned at his friend. "Look at us slow dancing. We could win prizes." He smirked and playfully tugged on Sherlock's hair.
"You want to enter a contest?" he smirked playfully, squeezing the other's waist. "I would not be averse, I suppose, if we had to practice very often…" the hand in his hair made him hum happily as he winked at the other.
John shrugged. "I dunno. Perhaps when I get home for good?" He pressed a bit closer to Sherlock and smiled. "It'd be a nice hobby."
The brunette nodded in agreement, giving his neck a sweet little nuzzle. "You're exceptionally warm and cuddly for a soldier, John."
John shivered a little bit as soon as he felt those soft, perfect lips on the sensitive skin under his ear, and he stepped away. "I think so, perhaps," he said, stammering a little. "Erm…"
Thankfully for John, it was just about the time that the song was drawing to a close, and Sherlock smiled, "Shall we get our coats then? It's just about time we headed out."
John smirked a bit and together they walked back to get their coats. "That was fun…"
"Mmm, it was. Definitely doing that again. But only with you."
John smiled a bit tightly and nodded. "Yeah, of course." They left some money on the table for Angelo and left the restaurant. "You know, today has been fun," John told his friend when they walked towards the Eye.
"I agree." He said softly, "S'always nice to take a tourist touring."
"With one's best friend," John added, grinning up at his taller friend. He nudged him with his shoulder and steered him into an alley way for a short cut.
"Still remember what I taught you about London, then? If there's a way, there's a shortcut," he grinned back down at him.
John scoffed at his darling friend. "I always listen to what you say, Lockie. And remember, I do know London a bit, just not as well as you." He winked and pointed to the left. "There, for example, is an excellent ice cream shop.
"I begin," Sherlock grinned impishly, "to see your reasons for taking a 'shortcut' on this beautiful night, dear soldier," he remarked. "Memory sharp as always. You've been here how many times before?"
"Four," John admitted, smirking a little too. "But that doesn't matter. It has, however, always struck me as odd how one can buy ice cream in rainy London, but not in Afghanistan. Can't you send me some?"
"I probably can't send you ice cream in its usual state, John...unless I send it in a freezer pack...but I can very easily send you ice cream powder. All you need to do is add milk to it."
John's smile widened and he nodded gratefully. "That'd be brilliant, Lockie. Truly." He squeezed his friend's hand and steered the direction of the Eye. "Have you ever been in the Eye?'
"Several times, as a child," Sherlock responded with a smile, "I used to pretend I could see all the murders happening in London, and that I was some kind of superhero who could fly about and stop them all," he ended with a chuckle, sighing. "Too bad that you grow up and learn the bitter truth: that heroes don't exist and nothing you can ever do will stop people hurting others."
John smiled and rooted around in his pocket for enough money to get in. "I understand how you feel, but I think I have to disagree with you there, Lock."
Sherlock frowned curiously as he paid for his own ticket, and stood back with John to wait for the Eye to stop. "Oh? What for?"
John stuffed his hands in his jeans pockets. "Sometimes I wonder why I bother risking my life for those tribes that just keep fighting. They kill each other, they kill us, and it never ends. But erm…" He hummed a little and cleared his throat. "I haven't told you this yet, but ah… There was this girl, with those big brown eyes. She was riding her donkey, and the poor animal stepped on a bomb. I managed to save her. Perhaps we can't stop people hurting each other, but we can…make a difference. So we have to keep trying. And that's…why I love being an army doctor."
Sherlock blinked at him for a long moment, before he smiled softly, "Dear me, John. That's one of the most adorable things I've ever heard!" he smiled widely, giving John a one-armed hug, before he leaned down to whisper in his ear, "I'll tell you a secret, then, John. Normally, I say my rules don't have exceptions. But somehow, you /still/ manage to be an exception, because you're my little hero, and I'll never stop thinking that about you."
The Eye stopped for them and Sherlock returned to normal, briskly thanking the doorman and opening the door for John himself.
A bit flabbergasted, John got in and sat down, glancing around the glass ball. "Well, I'm rather curious," John admitted, "Is the view really good?"
"It certainly is," Sherlock grinned at the darkened sky, "London should be all lit up by now."
John grinned and looked out over the city as they slowly climbed. It was beautiful, John agreed. He smirked at his friend and said off-handedly, "Romantic, wouldn't you say?"
"Very, and I think that it's appropriate that we recently bested Paris as the most romantic city in the world."
"Oh, did we? Awesome. Though I'd like to go to Paris once." John looked away again, admiring their city. "Yes, it's beautiful."
Sherlock smiled, "Sometimes when I miss you, I just visit Angelo's and take the window seat. The bright stars remind me of you. Unreachable, and far away, but reassuring and wonderful."
John looked back at his friend. "Far away, but not unreachable," he said softly.
"You are when you're fighting, or the internet's down," he pointed out, "which is half the time."
John fell silent at that, and stared out of the window. Unreachable indeed. If only Sherlock knew... He cleared his throat and looked out over the city, thoughts focused on the man next to him.
Sherlock also fell into a thoughtful silence, and pulled John into a light hug. "You know what?" he whispered, "I'll try not to mention your absence anymore this fortnight. Let's just have fun and do everything you've wanted to do here in London these last six months."
John smiled again and nodded. "Yes, that'd be a nice idea." He nudged Sherlock's cheek with his nose and sat back up again. "But this has been a wonderful idea, Sherlock. Thank you."
"No trouble whatsoever," Sherlock smiled at him, looking back outside. "Thank you for coming."
John grinned, and together they fully enjoyed the remainder of the trip. Once back on the ground, John tugged Sherlock towards the ice cream stand. "I'm buying."
"Alright, alright, whatever deactivates your bomb," he smirked.
John snorted and instead asked the seller which flavours he had. In the end, John settled for cherry and strawberry cheesecake, and looked at Sherlock. "What do you want?"
"Mmm…mint sounds just fine," he answered, internally wondering who in the world would invent such a flavour as cherry and strawberry cheesecake.
Happily licking, the two friends soon made their way to a bench where they looked out over the river Thames. "So, any plans for tomorrow?" The young soldier asked.
"Not as yet, but we do need to visit your family soon, do we not?" he asked in response.
John pulled a face. "I'd rather not, but yes. We have to visit mum and Harry." He sighed and stretched his legs in front of him. "Day after tomorrow?"
"As you wish. It should be a nice drive then, according to the weather bureau," Sherlock answered. "You don't want to go?"
"No, not really. You know my mum, Lock. It's dreadful." He slowly licked his ice cream, wanting it to last as long as possible.
"She's actually quite sweet. She was to me, anyway, when I frequented your home as a child and teenager," he reminded him.
John huffed. "Yeah, because she loves you better than me, that's why. To her, I'm good for nothing."
"Don't say that!" Sherlock looked at him with a raised eyebrow, "I highly doubt that, John, if she's so eager to see you."
John just huffed and looked away, stubbornly deciding not to reply to that.
Sherlock gave his hair a little ruffle, "Lighten up, Johnnie."
John glared at him. "She /never/ sends a letter or an email. Nothing, ever. And when we are there, we all pretend I didn't come home after six months. She hates that I went in the army. At least you are supportive."
Sherlock sighed, pulling him a little closer. "Of course I am, you're my friend. And, in addition, I know what you do makes you happy. Your interests should matter foremost, before other people's emotional investments."
John lay his head on Sherlock's shoulder. "You really think so? You should tell my mum that, she might agree."
Absently, Sherlock's hand found its way into John's hair, as he hummed thoughtfully. "I will, certainly. I'm sure she does care about you a lot, John. That's why she disapproves of your career choice."
"She shouldn't," John mumbled. "It'd be nice to get a letter from home at times." He shrugged and pressed up in Sherlock's hand.
"I'll talk to her," he promised, smiling reassuringly at him.
"Yeah, thanks," John mumbled, "I'd appreciate that." He began eating the bottom half of his ice cream, relaxing again.
"Anytime," Sherlock continued running his fingers through his friend's hair soothingly.
John smiled gratefully and patted his knee. "Thank you, Lockie."
They sat there for some more, until John sat up. "Shall we go home?"
Sherlock immediately got up, nodding, "We probably should, John," he agreed, "Mrs Hudson wants me to put up a painting for her, or something of the kind."
John laughed softly. "Okay, cool. I wanna see that."
Together, they began to make their way home, through a darkening city. "Had fun today?" John asked, looking up at Sherlock.
Sherlock smiled softly, keeping his eyes ahead, "Lots, actually. I haven't been about London just for the sake of it for six months."
John smiled too and patiently waited for his friend to open the door for them. While Sherlock fumbled with the lock, John fired off a text.
Sorry, Mary, but I can't come tonight. Family visit. J
You mean tomorrow night, right? That's when we made plans for. Tonight you said you were spending time from your friend. M
Ah, yes, sorry. I am obliged to visit my mother and sister tomorrow, so I am afraid I will have to cancel. Sorry, hon. J
Oh. I see. M
Sorry, Mary. When shall we make a new appointment? If you still want to, that is. J
Anytime you want. Seems like it's up to you, apparently. M
I feel guilty now. Let's get dinner the day after tomorrow? I'll pick you up at 6.30. That's a promise. J
Whatever you say. M
John sighed and stepped in after Sherlock, carelessly stuffing his phone in his pocket. She was angry, he knew, and he would be if he were her, as well.
Sherlock was already making tea for them, and set it on the table a moment later. "John," he commented, looking at him, "you're upset."
John flopped down on the sofa and sighed deeply. "Yeah, Mary."
He sat next to him. "Oh. The blonde. What's the matter now? Did she want to see you tonight? I'm sorry. I ruined your date again, I bet."
John smiled and shook his head. "No, the day after tomorrow. I'm gonna see mum and Harry tomorrow, so we can't go out. She's angry now, that I had to cancel."
Sherlock nodded, giving him a one-armed hug. "I'm sure everything will go just fine, John."
Once again, the doorbell rang, and there was the sound of voices as Mrs Hudson let someone in. A moment later, a grinning Jim appeared in the room with a bunch of papers. "Hey Sherlock!" he sang brightly, "Just dropping off your assignment. My brother marked it, and he's impressed. 100% correct, he said." Sherlock rose to accept it, thanking him with a smile, "Please send my regards to him."
"I will! I will! Oh, and I just wanted to ask – do you think I could please have your number?"
Sherlock obliged, but gave him the professional number he had on his blog, rather than that of his private mobile.
John eyed the man up and down, and had to fight down the urge to slap that Jim person in the face. He was pleased that Sherlock didn't give him his personal number, which made him feel a bit too smug to be good.
Forcibly, Jim gave Sherlock a tight squeeze in thanks before pulling away and bidding him goodnight, ignoring John completely. Sherlock watched him go with an amused brow, having done nothing to return the hug.
John sat back and sipped at his tea, looking up at his friend. "He's very persistent, I have to give him that."
Sherlock looked at John shyly. "Do you…do you think he really likes me? Like that? It's just – weird. Nobody likes me apart from you, let alone in that sense…" he sat back down opposite him, starting to turn his attention to the returned work.
John snorted and rolled his eyes. "Of course there are people who... like you like that. You are handsome, and kind if you want to be, and thoughtful." He hummed and turned to his cup with slightly flushed cheeks.
Sherlock didn't notice, however, and sighed. "But I barely know him. I've just seen him talking to his brother on campus a few times, and that's about it. I don't really like him that much. It's not that there's anything wrong with him, he's clever and friendly, but…"
"Yeah? But what?" John asked, trying to look indifferent.
"He's practically a stranger. And besides, I like someone else." He added almost in audibly, "But they don't return the…feelings."
John blinked at that and his head snapped up. "Really? Who is it?" he asked, almost hopefully. "Do I know... her?'
"Him," Sherlock corrected into his cup, "but it hardly matters." He set the tea back down on his saucer. "They'll never be interested. They're straight. It doesn't really matter, you know. I mean, it's stupid of me to even have hoped. I'm /me/, after all. No one would want a weirdo as their boyfriend. Except maybe Jim, but I still have much to learn about that guy."
John hummed at that and shrugged. "I don't know, Sherlock." He was /gay/. John was almost sure his heart was ready to burst. Gay. So there might be a chance...! "Will you tell me about him?" John asked eagerly.
Sherlock shook his head. "No point, I told you, he's not interested."
Author's Note: SherlockedSherlockian
Good day lovely readers! Just wanted to clarify a point. I have noticed that James and Jim Moriarty, the two brothers, technically share the same name in our story, as in the Canon. This is for a good reason. We have mischief up our sleeve ;)
Shout-outs:
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Yours Always,
SherlockedSherlockian xxx
