12. Playdate (for starrysummernights)
Note: So this didn't turn out so much as 'Playdate' more 'Let's have Sherlock show John something in his house' but I hope you enjoy it all the same!
Sherlock aged 9
John aged 10
Mycroft aged 14
This was the first time John had set foot inside the Holmes' house.
Well, you can say house, but you'd really mean estate.
It was huge. So big that John felt entirely insignificant standing before it as he and his Mother waited for the door to be answered.
'Ah! Mrs Watson, and little John! Welcome, do come in.' Estelle, the nanny, stepped aside with a warm smile to allow them inside.
'Mum, how does she know me?' John whispered up to his Mother as the stepped into the large foyer.
'Me and Mrs Holmes are good friends, John. I worked for her before I had you. That's why...'
The rest of his Mother's explanation was lost on John when he noticed what he was surrounded by.
A large, square hallway, pristine and shiny, the floors were darkwood and the walls were painted a deep red with patterns swirled in gold. There was a grand piano stood in the centre of the hallway, it sat to the side of the bottom of the stairs that wound up and round, disappearing above. John had never seen such a large room. There were many paintings and pictures of landscapes and nature all around him, hanging from the walls and giving the place character. It was absolutely nothing like their tiny corridor hallway at home. The only photo on their magnolia-painted walls was one of Harry's school ones, but she'd grown angry at it once or twice and scratched various people's faces out of it. Even her own.
'Come along, John.' Mrs Watson squeezed her son's hand and led him through into a different room, much to John's dismay.
The next room was what John worked out as the living room. Except something was very different.
'I think the hallway is the only place we've kept the same all these years. Everything else grew outdated and so we've modernized it a bit.' Mrs Holmes explained to John's mother as she rearranged a plant in the corner. John hadn't even noticed her arrival.
He frowned. Nothing about the living room was at all similar to the wondrous hallway. The floors were tiled white, the walls were white also, the sofas were a dark grey and enormously long with lime green cushions scattered along them. The walls held no paintings or photos, just a tv, a huge tv, that hung opposite the longest and largest sofa. As well as this, there was various indoor plants dotted around the place, and one whole wall was made of glass panels. John realised that it was actually a door that folded back, allowing access to the garden. He wondered why anyone would need to take out an entire wall just to put a door in it's place.
'Would you like a drink, Sue?' Mrs Holmes offered and her voice brought John back to the present.
'Tea would be wonderful, thank you, Viola. I've had a tough morning already! John's got this 'Career Day' thing at school coming up soon, he wants to go as a doctor, so I've had to find him a bloody doctor's coat and that took long enough. Then when we finally found one that fit, it had a huge stain on the sleeve so I've had to hotwash it repeatedly and it's only just come out! I've still got to iron it and lord help him if he gets anything down it!' Sue Watson laughed as she told her story.
'You should have said! Sherlock's got more than one white coat, you could have borrowed one of his, John.' Viola shouted through from walking into the ktichen to make tea.
John blushed at being the centre of conversation. He'd never met Sherlock's mother before. She seemed the type to judge quickly but keep it to herself.
'Say thank you, John.' Sue prompted.
John was about to respond with something about Mrs Holmes never actually giving him a coat at all so what is there to thank her for? When a loud BANG sounded from right above them, followed by a shout of 'Arrgh, god!'
John went white. What was that?
'Oh, I told him to wait until later when you'd left. That boy will be the death of me.' Viola came back with two mugs of tea and put them on the table.
'What's he doing?' John asked innocently.
'I'm not actually entirely sure, John. Why don't you go and find out for me?' Viola encouraged and John resisted the urge to wrinkle his nose at her patronizing tone. He looked at his Mother for approval and she nodded once with a smile.
After making it back through the hallway and up the large staircase without too much distraction, John used the whereabouts of the living room to locate which bedroom was Sherlock's.
He knocked on the door quietly but no sound came from inside.
'Sherlock? It's me. Can I come in?' The blonde boy spoke to the closed door.
'Just enter anyway, John. He's probably too engrossed in acids to hear you.' Mycroft Holmes appeared out of another door and headed for the stairs. 'Is your mother here?'
John nodded.
'Is she talking to my mother?'
He nodded again.
'Do they have tea?'
John frowned in puzzlement but nodded again.
'And cake?'
John paused. 'I don't know. They might.'
Mycroft smiled. 'Thank you, John. As I said, just go in, he won't care.'
John swallowed and nodded for the last time before watching Sherlock's older brother descend the stairs. He'd only ever heard of Mycroft Holmes, and most of the stories were bad ones from Sherlock himself. John frowned in though, the oldest Holmes boy didn't seem like a 'sadistic idiot'...
Just as John was about to push the door to Sherlock's room, it flung open and there stood the boy himself. His white coat was blackened on the shoulders, and sleeve-cuffs. His hair was dishevelled and messy and he had a large beaker of steaming...something...in his hand. The very tip of his nose was blackened too which made John stifle a laugh.
'John! Perfect, come here.' Sherlock exclaimed and pulled the blonde boy into his room. 'Hold this.' He gave him the steaming beaker and John grimaced, deciding to hold it at arm's length.
'Sherlock? What are you doing in here?' John asked when he noticed the large desk in the centre of the room, covered in various bottles and beakers of vibrantly coloured liquids. Some were steaming, others bubbling and some were forming solids in the centre.
'Not much. I needed something to pass the time until you arrived.' He flashed John a grin and took the beaker from his hand, placing it on the desk with the others. John noticed the white (and slightly blackened) coat had now been removed and Sherlock was wearing a shirt and trousers.
'Why are you dressed like that?' John asked, pointing at his friend's formal attire.
'Like what? I wore this yesterday, it's nothing special. Come on, I've got something to show you.' Sherlock grabbed John's hand and pulled him in another direction. This time he led him to another door, still inside his room, that John had previously suspected was a bathroom. Now he wasn't so sure.
Pushing the air-tight door open and flicking on the lights, Sherlock revealed to John his 'not-bathroom-room'.
It was a giant fridge. In fact they'd literally stepped into a fridge. A meat locker.
'Er, Sherlock. Where are we? Why do you have a fridge in your room?' John asked, not failing to notice that Sherlock's hand was still intwined with his but choosing to say nothing about it, for a reason he didn't even know himself.
'It's my storage fridge, John. Look!' Sherlock pulled him over to a shelf that contained various sized, red lumps.
'Are they? Are these hearts, Sherlock?' John was shocked. He was looking at a real life heart. Several of them.
'Mhm.' Sherlock nodded. 'Two pigs, a cow, three rats and a human.'
'A human?' John let go of Sherlock's hand and stepped back. 'You have a human heart in here?'
'No, I was joking, that one's a cow too.' Sherlock didn't so much as chuckle, he just shrugged with an amused smirked and patted the sealed cow heart twice before stepping back and beaming proudly at John.
'So you wanted to show me your giant heart fridge?' John was confused.
'Yes. And no.' Sherlock grabbed John's hand once more and lead him, calmer this time, to another shelf on the fridge. It contained a smaller fridge and John grimaced in expectation of what he was about to see inside it.
'Don't tell me there are rotting brains or eyeballs or something in there...' He swallowed and Sherlock shook his head.
'Nope. Something much...tastier.' John felt his head grow fuzzy at the thought of Sherlock munching down on an animal organ. He reached to open the fridge when the dark-haired boy gestured for him to. His hand was shaking and it wasn't just out of the cold.
After a few seconds, John felt Sherlock guide his hand with his own and open the fridge for him. His whole body warmed at Sherlock's touch and he didn't understand why. How could he suddenly be warm? They were inside a fridge!
'There. And they're all yours.' Sherlock opened the door to the small fridge fully and John was about to close his eyes at the flash of something red that greeted him. Except once he'd realised just what that red was, he didn't want to look away.
'H-how did you know I liked jam?' John asked his friend who was smirking again.
'I just do.' The child genius boasted. 'And I made them myself.' He added.
John quickly retracted the hand that was reaching for the jars that sat in rows inside the fridge.
Sherlock rolled his eyes. 'Out of strawberries that Mother grows, John! I wouldn't make you eat body parts. Stupid!'
John chuckled nervously and then, realising what a complete idiot he was being, reached and took one of the cool jars into his hand. It was bright red and looked delicious.
'Thank you, Sherlock.' He spoke after a while.
'Don't.' Sherlock lifted a hand to stop the boy from thanking him. 'And I thought...if you, err, wanted to keep them...in this fridge. Then that's fine with me. And you can...err, come anytime when you...run out.' John was surprised at how Sherlock shuffled awkwardly. He was suddenly reminded that the dark-haired boy was a year younger than him. Being a genius can really obscure what age you seem.
John put the jar down and took Sherlock's hand again.
'I like that idea, Sherlock. And if you ever want to show me anymore...body parts,' John paused at the inclination of what that sounded like. 'You're...welcome to.' He finished, hoping that Sherlock hadn't picked up on how dirty that had sounded.
The dark-haired boy looked at John. A few seconds of silence fell between them before they both burst out laughing. John chose that light-hearted moment to lean across and peck the genius child on the lips, unsure of why even after he'd done it.
'I'd like that, John.' Sherlock finally managed after he'd got over his laughter and the shock of the sudden kiss.
'Me too.' John nodded, smiling warmly.