18-1
Sherlock dug his heels in the floor, grumbling loudly yet incoherently as he was dragged along by John. He found himself seriously regretting letting John choose the activities, as they were dragged halfway across London. John pulled on Sherlock's hand trying to get him to stop dragging his feet. Instead he stopped dead still, a pout forming on his face. He didn't mind running around London hand in hand with John, he just despised their destination. John looked at him with a stern look on his face.
"Sherlock, you promised," he said in a pleading voice.
He continued to pout, knowing that eventually he would have to give in to John's demands and concede. When they stopped by to drop his supplies off at the flat, he had hoped he would be able to persuade John to stay in, but no such luck. He had hoped John would be vaguely interested on helping him work on an experiment. He had acquired a pair of fresh eyeballs from Molly, and hoped to experiment with corrosion effects. Unfortunately, John seemed rather repulsed at the idea, and demanded to leave the flat to go to what Sherlock imagined would be equal to hell.
"It's going to be dull," whined Sherlock. "Why can't we just go home and play with my acid!"
Several passersby glanced over at the couple with alarm. He imagined even the sight of them must look hilarious, like an old married couple arguing in the street.
John sighed. "What is it going to take for me to get you to come?"
Sherlock opened his mouth.
"And before you say it, no I am not helping you with your experiment, it's disgusting."
Sherlock closed his mouth again and resumed his pout. He hated not getting his own way, and it was actually rather difficult thinking of something good he could use as a bargaining tool.
"A massage." Sherlock declared, a glint in his eye.
"Really, is that it?"
Sherlock nodded vigorously, causing John to laugh.
"Alright then, easily done! I promise you will enjoy this, it really is amazing!
Sherlock gave in, and returned to walking side by side with John, still hand in hand. He could tell that when people walked past and actually noticed them, John tensed up, uncomfortable at their relationship creating attention. This behaviour only caused Sherlock to tighten his grip on John, reminding the doctor that there was nothing wrong with his feelings, and that they should be comfortable and safe with each other.
They both entered the building, and ambled along with the queue until they reached their destination, taking seats near the back.
"I didn't enjoy this the first time we were here you know," grumbled Sherlock, slumping down in his seat.
John laughed. "This time we aren't on the tail of a seven foot tall assassin though, so you can actually concentrate and enjoy the show."
Stupid space, thought Sherlock. If John wasn't so wonderfully charming and persuasive, he would never have been caught dead filling his brain with such nonsense.
He continued to sulk as the lights dimmed, and the introduction of the film began to play. As the voiceover began, he felt Johns hand casually rest on his knee, and he glanced over to see the doctor, fully engaged in the production. He couldn't help but smile, it was wonderful to see John excited about something, and at that moment he actually felt rather happy about the fact John had chosen to watch it with him. He sat back with the intention of watching the documentary. He had intended to watch the entire thing, to please John, but more than a few times, he just found himself watching the man next to him, studying his expressions and body language. He was truly fascinated by the man, and as much as he really did try to concentrate on the production being show before him, he found his companion to be a much more interesting subject.
Too soon for his liking, the end credits began rolling. He was thoroughly enjoying watching John in the darkened room, studying him with intent. The doctor turned to him, his face illuminated with happiness.
"So, did you enjoy it?" John asked, sounding very animated.
Sherlock didn't have the heart to tell John he had watched hardly any of it. He was lucky the doctor was so drawn in to the show; it meant he hadn't noticed Sherlock's gazes.
"It was a beautiful show definitely," Sherlock replied. "Unfortunately the facts of the universe continue to elude me, but I most definitely appreciate the beauty of it all."
John smiled, satisfied with Sherlock's hand, and they both made their way out into the fresh air.
"Dusk is setting in," observed Sherlock. "Is there anything else you wanted to do Doctor Watson?"
"Takeaway and crap telly?" suggested John.
"As you wish," replied Sherlock, bowing in a comical manner, causing John to giggle rather loudly.
Sherlock put on his leather gloves and grabbed hold of John's hand, striding towards the road to hail a taxi. A few short months ago, the idea of spending an evening with another person, watching television and eating bad food sounded like the absolute epitome of hell. Right now though, he wanted to do nothing more than pick up a pizza, stick on a mindless entertainment show, and relax with John Watson until they both fell asleep. He considered himself lucky, and his mind at ease, he took comfort in the fact he had such a wonderful distraction from worse things to come.