Why was he the only one panicking? Out of every single person sat at the dining table, why did it look like he was the only one who wanted to flip the table and shout at life; stating how incredibly horrid it's been to him. They haven't even ate anything, all of them-except his mother- were sitting at the table staring at whoever was across from them. At times he has dreaded his mother's cooking- considering she's usually late from work- but now he was waiting with baited breath. Looking over at Sherlock, he wondered what Sherlock was thinking, possibly the same thing as John's thinking.
"John!" called his mother from the kitchen. Instantly, John knew what she was going to ask, he just didn't want to do it in the fear of leaving Sherlock which his family, "Help me bring out the food!"
Leaving Sherlock with his sister and father, he walked into the kitchen to only be greeted by a swarm of steam and smoke attacking his face from whatever was in the oven. Surprisingly, his mother was running around-now and then cursing to herself- putting food on plates.
"What's in the oven?" asked John as he ran to the window to let the fumes out.
"Nothing's in the oven John, just hand these out and come back to me." she waved him off with her hand before disappearing somewhere else in the house, leaving John slightly confused and concerned as he had never seen his mother act like that before. Juggling the plates on his arms, he walked down the hall and into the dining room and gently placed the plates of food on the table before scanning the rooms looking for her. Eventually, he found her taking out something dark from the oven and placing it in the bin. When she closed the bin's lid, she turned around and faced John with relief.
"All right, there was something in the oven. But it doesn't matter now, let's just go in." she said before pushing John into the dining room, "I hope you're not allergic to nuts Sherlock."
"Why would you ask that? Are there any in the food?" asked John as he took his seat next to Sherlock, "Why would you put nuts in food?"
"Well, it was on that show wasn't it? You know, the one with them two blokes on those bikes. You know the other day they went to Cornwall and tried something called Stargazy pie."
"What's that?" asked his father, trying to hold back his frustration brought on by her.
"It's like a pie with fish heads poking out of the top of the crust. I personally don't like fish but the way those men described it made me fancy cooking it, but tonight I just stuck to something-"
"So Sherlock," said his father as he tried to cut up the pieces of burnt food on his plate, "John doesn't really talk about you much, god knows why. So why don't you tell us yourself?"
Oh god, this was the moment he wished not to happen. John was only worried that Sherlock would talk too little, or too much. Or that he would boast, and according to Harry, she hates people who boast about their life, unless it was her talking.
"Well, I've lived in London mostly all my life. I live with my parents and older brother and I'm on my last year of High School." he said, taking a bite of the food before pushing the plate away. Instantly John froze as he waited to watch his mothers reaction, but surprisingly, she didn't notice.
"Oh? And what high school is that then?" said Harry, leaning forward and staring directly at both Sherlock and John. So she knew that Sherlock doesn't go to his school, "You know, because John's told us nothing about you. You are from John's class, aren't you?"
"Well not exactly Harry, he goes to a different school close by." said John before Sherlock could reply.
"Wait, so he doesn't go to your school?" asked his mother as she also stared at the two, "Why didn't you tell me this John? I've always said you shouldn't keep stuff from me. I'm not angry, I just wish you told me."
"What a disappointment. She can't admit it, but she is angry with you and I can't blame her. Shame. On. You." she said, emphasising each word.
"Now Harry-" said John, but was cut off by Sherlock's burst of laughter.
"Disappointment?" said Sherlock, amused with himself as he leaned back on his chair, "That's a bit vague isn't it, not after what happened last night?"
This was it, John thought. It's over, everything was gone for. Sherlock's probably going to take five minutes describing her drinking problem, his mother's going to be crying in the corner and if wasn't enough, his dad's most likely going to kick Sherlock out of the house and demand that John should never go near him again.
"Yeah, last night was a bit hectic. I wasn't NOT going to go to a club and drink until the early hours of the morning. Is that a problem?"
"No, but there is a thing called too much drinking. Since we've sat here all you've done is eye up the bottle of wine here," said Sherlock as he picked up the bottle and examined it, "17.5% of alcohol in just a small bottle of wine. Bit too much don't you think?"
"I can drink as much as I want to. And I don't need you telling me otherwise." she said, snatching the bottle away from Sherlock and pouring herself a glass.
"Of course not, goes against the whole purpose of free will, doesn't it?" Sherlock took a long sip of water before turning to look at John's father, "But anyway, enough about your daughter's drinking problem, John's not told me much about you. Care to fill me in on missing gaps?"
The one thing John wished for right now was for his chair to swallow him up and erase him from the room. Flexing his hands, he placed his elbows on the table before running his hands in his hair. God knows what his mother or father was thinking. To tell you the truth, he didn't really want to know.
"Well," said his father. Looking up, he saw his father's hands curl together into a tight ball next to his plate, "John should have told you some stuff already. Moved to London because of my- job and all that."
"Your job? Well, we all know that isn't true Mr Watson so there's no point in telling me nonsense about how your job had something to do with the fact that-"
"Sherlock!" shouted John, covering his hands with his mouth, realising that he was a bit loud in interrupting him, "Um, can I have a word for a minute?"
They both got out of their seat; John walked into the kitchen with Sherlock following behind him. Closing the door behind them both, he leaned against it and gave a sigh of frustration. Sherlock heard this and turned around to look at John.
"Not good?" asked Sherlock, putting his hands in his pockets.
"A bit not good." said John, "Look Sherlock, my parents get easily offended. My father more than my mother. Harry's just a constant bitch. They don't know that you know about what happened because I didn't think it would be important. I mean, are you trying to get yourself killed? You couldn't even last five minutes without pissing people off."
"It's not my fault John that your sister is an alcoholic; your mother is a terrible cook and is blind to the obvious and your father is uncaring with a short temper. I don't even know why I'm here to be honest."
"You know what? I don't know either. You know I thought I would be friendly by inviting you here, considering you tell me that you don't have friends. Fine, I get it. You don't have friends and that's perfectly fine with me. But ask yourself: why am I still here? You say most people hate what you do and push you away whenever you open your mouth, but I don't."
"Look John-"
"No, you listen Sherlock and you listen well. I have put up with all your shit and its only been two months, not even that. You could at least treat me with a bit of respect, you ungrateful git."
"John I'm-"
"And why are you here? You hardly eat and you just told me that my family are the family from hell. Fine I admit it, there not a walk in the park but neither are yours. Your dad is a psychopath. Your brother is a psychopath. Your mum is just your mum. And what makes it all worse is that you are so alike that it's unbelievable. You even hate to admit it yourself but it's true, you and your family are just alike. So tell me Sherlock, why are you here when you could be with your family?"
To John, all that seemed like a mouthful; it just all came out at once. Sherlock's face was unreadable, as always. That also made John slightly annoyed, that Sherlock could be completely emotionless to situations like this.
"John, I'm sorry if I've offended you, but I think I should leave." said Sherlock. That was the first time John had ever heard Sherlock apologize, and even if it was, it just sounded fake. Like he was saying it to spare feelings even though Sherlock knew he was right. John stepped away from the door and opened it again. Both of them walked to the front door; John took Sherlock's coat and bag and handed them to him. John nodded at Sherlock, before opening the front door. Sherlock swiftly moved outside before slamming the door shut. Again, that was the second time John wished never happened. If life was a human being, John would be willing to punch them in the face.
Sherlock never said sorry and if he did, it was only to win an argument by shocking the other. But this time, he actually meant it, and that wasn't normal. So as he sat next to his mother in front of the fire, he thought of the reasons as to why he meant it. Sherlock agreed to himself that what he said was entirely true, and John knew that, but usually Sherlock would feel a sense of accomplishment after speaking his mind; this time he wasn't. Truthfully, Sherlock felt like an idiot.
"So how did you find John's family?" asked his mother, "I hope you didn't upset them Sherlock."
"Well, it's too late now isn't it." said Sherlock, "I spoke my mind, you've always taught me that."
"Yes, I know I did Sherlock, but if speaking your mind is going to upset a couple of people, you should consider what you are going to say. Understand?"
"But it's the truth. Surely John knows that."
"Sherlock," she leaned her head against his shoulder, yawning from the soaring heat in the room, "Of the fifteen years you have been on this planet, you have never had a friend that has stayed for more than a week. You're very lucky to have John. Very lucky indeed. I presume he talked a bit about your father and Mycroft?"
"He said I'm just like them."
"In a way, you are. But is that such a bad thing? Even though your father might not show his love, he really does care for you. You know if anything happened to you, he would never forgive himself. Mycroft also, he cares for you because your brothers." Sherlock merely shrugged at his mother, as if what she said was hard to believe.
"Mother?" asked Sherlock, leaning the top of his head on hers, "When you had to go to the doctors, it wasn't serious was it?". For a while, his mother didn't say anything, which gave Sherlock the idea that there was something she was hiding.
"Of course not Sherlock, there's nothing to worry about. Just a little check-up, that's all. Don't worry about it."
Don't worry about it? How could he not worry about it? Over the last couple of months he's noticed that his mother sometimes forgets where she is. She is constantly going to the doctors; always hurting herself so easily. He knew his father and Mycroft knew something about it and he hated the idea of them hiding a secret from him. He knew she was lying, and that was what frightened him the most.
Sorry if this was a bit out of character for either Sherlock or John. I've been trying to set up my new tumblr account where I review books and upload anything I like. I only just created it last night. If you're interested(you don't have to be, it's up to you. But you can look if you're interested in anything to do with Sherlock or books and such), then here is the link:
