Sherlock's flight touched down in the early morning; about 8. After Sherlock had scrambled his way through customs, he was greeted at the front of the airport by an ever so enthusiastic John. Following him was Molly, who looked equally excited for Sherlock to be back.
God, he had missed them more than he was willing to admit. More than he wanted to admit. What was he supposed to do if he got into Julliard? If he missed them this much after being gone for barely a week, how was he supposed to be away from them for months at a time?
John pulled Sherlock into one of the tightest hugs he had ever given him.
"At this rate, I think you're going to have to take John to Julliard with you," Molly teased.
"If I get in anyway."
"Sherlock Holmes, cut the garbage. You know for a fact you played as well as you always do, and I'm 110% certain that you were already accepted before they asked you to come play. The audition was just a formality," Molly snapped.
"Or," Sherlock began. "I played horribly, and they were so confused at how everyone thinks I'm one of the greatest musicians of my time when I could barely get out a piece as simple as Dance of the Goblins."
"Seriously, Sherlock," John started, giving him a serious look. "You played your best, and I'm sure it was phenomenal. They seeked you out. Molly was probably right. They knew they wanted someone as talented like you in their program and the audition was more or less truly a formality. It assured them that you really are that talented and now their minds are made up."
Sherlock gave John a soft smile before they were all ushered towards the exit of the airport.
"I say we go out for a celebratory lunch!" Molly demanded as they clambered into the cab.
"I don't know, Molly. I'm quite exhausted after that trip. I think I'd much rather go home."
Molly's face fell, but she nodded. "Dinner?"
Sherlock smiled and nodded. "Dinner."
Eventually Sherlock clambered through the front door of his flat, followed by John carrying his luggage. Sherlock gently set his violin down on a table and proceeded to flop onto his couch. He felt absolutely miserable, and he had no idea why. Was this what travelling did to people? No wonder he didn't do it much. He was tired and anxious and he wanted nothing more than to fall asleep in John's arms.
And as though John heard his thoughts, he felt a soft tap on his arm. He opened his eyes to see John staring down at him, eyes soft and concerned.
"Why don't we go lay down on the bed, love? You really look like you could use some real sleep."
Sherlock groaned, but eventually he sat up, and he and John made their way to the bedroom. At this point, usually, Sherlock would be ready to lock lips with that beautiful pianist of his, but he was really in a funk. He snuggled into John's arms and almost immediately fell asleep.
He was awoken by a loud buzzing, followed by a frantic John flapping about to find his phone on the bedside table. Sherlock groaned and rolled away from him. "Why do you always have to set an alarm. Couldn't we one day just take a nap and wake up when we aren't tired any more?"
"Sorry, sorry," John said, finally silencing the alarm. "I just didn't want us to sleep through dinner."
"What time is it?" Sherlock asked.
"3."
"Oh for God's sake, John, I could have slept for a whole other hour!" Sherlock cried out, pulling a pillow over his head. John immediately ripped the pillow away.
"Not if we are going out, you can't. Come on, up you get," he said, pulling the covers off of Sherlock as he stood up. "Molly is gonna be here at 5."
Sherlock slowly blinked his eyes open to see John ruffling through the suits hanging up in Sherlock's closet.
"Why… why are you looking through my suits?"
John turned and smiled at him. "It is a celebratory dinner, is it not? We're going to Tapas Brindisa tonight."
Sherlock scoffed. "Angelo won't care if I don't show up in a suit. We go way back."
Suddenly he was smothered with a suit jacket.
"Maybe Angelo won't care, but I will. So go shower and get dressed."
"Will you be joining me in the shower, love?" Sherlock asked, winking playfully. John just rolled his eyes in response.
"If you behave tonight, I'll think about joining you next time."
Sherlock grimaced, but he finally stood up and made his way to the bathroom to take a quick shower. When he finished and made his way back to his bedroom to get dressed, John was no longer there.
That's odd, he thought. I wonder where he went.
Sherlock slowly got the suit on that John had picked out for him. When he decided that he looked presentable, he nodded at his reflection in the mirror and made his way into the sitting room. John had magically reappeared, and he was wearing one of the most handsome suits Sherlock had ever laid eyes on. It was a deep red suit, and as much as the color popped, it really did wonders for John's appearance.
Sherlock realized in that moment that he'd never fully appreciated John in a suit before. Of all the performances they shared together, Sherlock had never actually gotten to stand back and actually see that man wear a suit.
And he had been missing out.
After a few minutes, John stood, concerned. Sherlock had been standing there with his mouth agape for almost a full minute, the color rushing to his cheeks.
"Sherlock? Are you alright?"
Sherlock was only able to muster up a muffled "you look good."
John blushed, but before he could respond his phone began to ring. He picked it up and answered it. A brief "all right, we will be right down," told Sherlock that Molly had arrived, and it was time for them to leave for dinner. John offered Sherlock his hand and he took it, still blushing from their encounter. John couldn't help but laugh at Sherlock's absolute inability to handle a man in a suit.
"I suppose I'll have to keep this in mind for future endeavors?" he teased, causing the blush in Sherlock's cheeks to refresh as they stepped out of the flat and climbed into Molly's car.
The evening was filled with laughter and smiles. Angelo had even given them a discount on their meals; Sherlock had met Angelo a while back. They went to high school together. He'd gone off to culinary school and became a world-class chef in less than two years. He had also showed up to just about every single recital and performance Sherlock had been a part of since he started at the Royal Academy. He was one of the closest friends that Sherlock had ever had, and he regretted that they hadn't been talking as much these days as they used to. He would have to get his number tonight so it would be easier to get in touch.
When John walked in with Sherlock, Angelo absolutely lost his mind. He went on and on about how he knew that Sherlock was going to find some man someday who had the guts to put up with all his pretentious air. He was going to meet his match and it was going to change his life forever.
"Are you a world class psychic now, too?" Sherlock asked, thoroughly unimpressed. Sherlock had just broken up with his girlfriend of 4 years.
"I'm telling you Sherlock, she was never right for you. Girlfriends just aren't your area."
"Great. Thanks, Angelo. Great pep talk."
Sherlock threw back another shot and let his head fall against the bar.
"I think a boyfriend would be more your area."
"No offense Angelo, but I think I would know if I was gay."
"I'm telling you, Sherlock. One day you are going to meet a man that refuses to worship the ground you walk on. And you're going to go absolutely mad for him."
Sherlock simply groaned and ordered another round of shots.
He never would have guessed that he was 100% right. But when he turned and saw John next to him, his eyes lit up with laughter and happiness, he didn't want the world to be any other way.
