Chapter Twelve
John paced around Sherlock's bedroom, while the other boy sat on the double bed up against one wall. He had a book in his lap but was much more interested in his now 'boyfriend'. He smirked at the term. It was this little phrase that had John so flustered in the first place.
"What am I going to say? "Hey Mum, this is my Boyfriend, Sherlock". She's going to go nuts! She wanted grandchildren. Bloody grandchildren!"
"I'm sure she will be just as understanding as Mummy."
"You don't know my mum. She's rather traditional…" John sighed, he was still not certain but he stopped his pacing when he saw Sherlock give a yawn. The doctors had told him to rest and here was John keeping him up with his worrying. "Well, we better get to bed if we want to get to mine by lunch time. Where should I sleep?"
Sherlock pattered the space next to him on the bed.
John face turned a bight shade of red. "W-what there? What are you suggesting? Sherlock, we only kissed yesterday. I like you but I don't think this is something that we should rush!"
The young Holmes chuckled at his boyfriend's flustered expression. "I only meant for you to sleep here. I promise I won't do a thing. This bed is plenty big enough. And what if I need help in the middle of the night? You wouldn't want me to open the wound would you?"
"That's a terrible excuse."
"Yes, but now you couldn't sleep in another room if you wanted to. Right this moment you are coming up with dozens of over-the-top and impossible scenarios in your mind where I do myself a mischief. You would be sick with worry."
"You have that right! No one gets in trouble like you. Not many people can see it, but you're an idiot. A reckless idiot." John could not help but smile fondly at the boy propped up in bed.
"Come on then, in you get." Sherlock smirked as he pulled the shirt off over his head, making John blush even further. He flicked the piece of clothing across the room, still grinning. "May need a little help at this bit." He said innocently, working on the belt. He hissed in pain when he attempted to slide the fabric over the bandaged wound. This reaction quickly brought John to his side. Gently lifting him from the bed and pulling the black denim jeans away from the injured skin. When Sherlock was lying down under the blankets, John striped down to his boxers, the colour ever present on his cheeks. He quickly slipped in next to the watching boy, feeling vulnerable in the chill of the room.
"What if your mum sees us?" John whispered, facing his boyfriend, who was still smiling softly but his eyes were drooping slightly. "I know she's fine with… us. But I think even your mother would have something to say about this…"
"You should have seen Mycroft in his teens." Sherlock yawned again; he had been tired ever since he had left the Hospitals back in Scotland. By reading the side effects on the box of his painkillers he wasn't happy to find drowsiness meaning he would need more sleep. He wrapped his arms around John, liking the warm feeling of some one else in his bed. At first the smaller teen flinch at the contact but he soon settled into it resting his head on the others chest.
"I don't think I would have liked to meet a teenage Mycroft." John smiled.
Sherlock chuckled, feeling sleep taking him. Maybe with someone by his side sleep was not too bad.
In Sherlock's opinion Great Barford was rather dull. The "main" road was near silent and since they had arrived only a handful of cars and a tractor had passed them. John led him towards a quaint looking bakery, its window filled with cream cakes and loathes of bread. Across the road stood a traditional pub, getting ready to open for the afternoon. The man across the road, watering his garden, waved cheerfully over to the boys. An old woman on a bus stop asked if they were having a nice day as they passed.
"John, do you know every one in the bloody village? Why is everyone talking to us?" He gazed suspiciously at a man across the road walking a dog.
"Hey, nice weather we're having." He called across the road.
John snorted, "They're just being friendly. Unlike in London, here it is acceptable to talk to people!"
Getting closer to the bakery Sherlock read the sign above. "Watson's Barford Bakers" It read in curly letters, the sign looked aged, but that seemed to add to its charm. They paused outside, Sherlock leaning on his crutch taking in the shops appearance. It was quite a small outlet, the width of the little detached house. The shop's front had a late 30's look and the wooden window frames looked original and well cared for over the years. The bread and pastries in the window were nothing fancy but they all looked appetizing.
"Well, here goes nothing." John let out a steady breath and pushed the door open.
A bell on the wall rang, sounding their arrival. Behind counter was a short plump woman, wearing a crisp white apron, her hair tied up in a bun behind her head. At seeing John her face lit up.
"John!" She called, rushing forward and throwing her arms around the boy. "I was so worried." She then turned to Sherlock tightly wrapping her arms around him in another backbreaking hug. "And you must be Sherlock." She smiled fondly. "I'm John's mother, but you can call me Heather." He could not help but notice she had a dusting of flour in her hair. "Now come on boys, into the kitchen with you. I won't have you standing here cluttering up the shop." She flipped the sign on the door to 'closed' and pulled the boys behind the counter. The grin did not leave her face as she led then through the house. "Harry," She called up the stairs. "John's here come down and say hello."
Mrs. Watson headed down a slim corridor the walls lined with photographs of the family on holiday, a young John in school uniform grinning with huge gaps between his teeth and a sandy haired girl Sherlock presumed was John's sister. He caught a glimpse of a man standing proudly in military attire with his arm around Mrs. Watson one hand on a large belly. He paused to take a closer look.
John smiled sadly behind him, wrapping his arms around him self.
"Dad went out just after Harry and I was born," He sighed. "I never really knew him."
Sherlock turned to John and ran his hand over his cheek in an attempt to comfort him. But a loud thump from up stairs made the shorter boy aware of his surroundings and blushed furiously.
"Come on you need to sit down." He said, quickly changing the subject.
A huge oven took up most of the kitchen. It must have been used for the shops baking as well as the families judging by the size. Sherlock hobbled over to the kitchen table in the centre of the room and slumped down onto the nearest chair. He sighed with relief as the weight was taken from his leg. The whole room seemed to be coved in a thin layer of flour. It smelled sweet like home baked cakes, which was rather comforting. Sherlock smiled, the house suited John, it had a sense of caring and was obviously a happy home, even with such a huge lose, the family had continued.
"Sherlock dear, would you like a cup of tea?" Heather asked with a warm smile on her face. She hurried around the kitchen fetching mugs from one cupboard then tea bags from another.
"That would be lovely." He smiled.
John went over to help his mum, listening to her tell him about the shop while he has been away.
"Hey, John." A sandy haired girl came into the room, not looking up from her phone as she took a seat across the table from Sherlock.
"You're twins?" Sherlock asked, taking in the girl's appearance. She had the same nose and sandy blond hair but her eyes were sharper than John's and their mother's.
"Yes," The girl answered simply looking up at Sherlock as if it was the first time she had seen him sitting there. "I'm Harry."
"They look the same but really they could not be more different." Heather chuckled, placing a cup in front of the two sitting. John took a seat next to Sherlock, reaching for the sugar. He added four full spoons to his tea and smiled when he took a sip.
"John, all that sugar is not good for you." His mother scolded. She turned Sherlock, "My little boy always had a sweet tooth, when he was a little boy he used to take the jam out the fridge and take it up to his bedroom. I would always find the empty jar under his bed." She chuckled at the memory.
"Mum," John groaned. "Why do you have to tell every one that?"
"Yep, Hattie, Suzie, Lucy and Clare. They have all been told about John's jam addiction. But from everyone John could bring home to meet the family I never thought it would be a feller." Harry stirred her tea, a wicked smirk on her face as she watched John's face heat up.
"What? H-how did you-? It's not how it looks, I mean it's not like we're… err. Sherlock?" John babbled, looking to his companion for help.
But he was focused on his sister as she continued to smirk. He too was curious to how she had the worked out so quickly.
"Oh, come on! I read the letters to mum, the way you spoke about him mad it seemed like you were bloody obsessed. You're my brother; you can hide nothing from me! The whole time it sounded like you wanted to shag him."
"Harriet!" Heather chided "Language." She scowled at her daughter. "Now John," she now turned to her son, her face serious. "Tell me the truth. Is Sherlock here really… the object of your attraction?" Her tone was hard to read.
"He… er, well"
"Yes" Sherlock answered simply.
John kept his head down, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to mum."
Heather snorted, which quickly changed to a full-blown laugh. "Sorry? There is nothing to be sorry about sweetie," She tried to stop her fit of giggles but was doing a poor job of it. "You have been worried about telling me haven't you? As long as you are happy John, be it with a girl or boy, I am happy as well." She cupped her son's cheek, making him face her. "All I want is for you to be happy, happy and safe. Now don't go doing any thing rash, you have your whole lives ahead of you, don't go rushing into things and when you do make sure you both know what you are doing. There are some nasty things out there and-"
"Mum, stop!" John blurted out, when he worked out what his mother was talking about.
Harriet tried stifled a laugh but she was finding it hard to hide how amusing all this was to her. John still mortified at how blunt his mother was being he stood up to go.
"Sherlock lets go and see the village." He mumbled, hurrying out the room.
The two boys walked slowly around the edge of the village football pitch. John matched his pace to Sherlock's, which was sluggish with him on crutches. Seeing that the dark haired teen was slightly out of breath, John gestured for them to take a seat on the stands. He knew that Sherlock would never admit to a weakness and would rather pass out with accusation than ask to sit down. He was stubborn. The young Holmes let out a relived sigh when the weight was taken off his wounded limb.
"Well it could have been worse," John stated, thinking back to a few minutes ago when they sat in his kitchen listening to his mother trying to give him the 'talk' in front of his sister and new boyfriend. "I seriously thought she was about to disown me!"
"I can tell you for certain that she never would. She is the type of woman who would stand by you to the end of the world."
"How do you know that?" John asked, a brow raised.
"She reminds me of you," Sherlock took the other boys hand, running the pad of his thumb across his palm. "You're loyal to the end, even if you sometimes don't want to be."
John smiled lovingly back but the moment was broken by the familiar tone from Sherlock's phone stating that he had a message.
Not letting go of his shorter companion's hand, he reached into his pocket to check the text.
"Well that's not right." Sherlock scowled, dropping John's hand and franticly typing a reply.
"Who is it?" the other asked.
"Mycroft," Sherlock kept his eyes locked on the screen until the tone sounded again. Sherlock scowl deepened. "He said there wasn't enough evidence to say that Moriarty is reasonable. Some how he talked his way out of it and got off completely free, not even a bad word to his name."
John gapped; horrified at the thought that, that psycho was still out there.
Sherlock let out a growl. "That's not it. In a couple of weeks, we need to go back to school with him."
Authors Note-
I have had a busy month! Birthdays, holidays, back to school, exam results and a huge pile of homework to top it all off. And I know that this is a rubbish excuse and I probably deserve some extreme punishment. But hopefully that was worth the wait... I do like this chapter, I like John's Mum and the Village 'Great Barford' is real and where my Mum grew up. Another thanks to 'Suezanne' who gave me the wonderful idea of having Mummy Watson as a baker! I always pictured our John with a sweet tooth. So thank you all for your lovely reviews and adding this to your favourites, it makes my day!
SO FOR NOW MY DEARS GOOD DAY!
