A short, smiling lady with light brown hair opened the door wearing an apron and oven mitts. "Hello, how can I help you?" The woman asked, beaming. The smell of baking cookies wafted out the door and John couldn't help but long for the sweet taste. It had been so long. "Yes, hi, I'm John Watson, an, er, friend of Sherlock's. He invited me over to, uh, work on homework. If it's alright with you of course, I don't want to intrude." John stammered. He wanted to make a good impression, it seemed to be working.
"I'm Wanda," She slipped off one of her mitts and held out her hand, which John shook. "Come on in, no you're not intruding at all, I'm happy Sherlock's got another friend, especially one like you, so nice and proper. Come in! Don't be shy!" John smiled in relief and thanked her while removing his shoes.
"Sherlock, you've got a friend here!" Wanda called up the stairs. John looked around at the small but cozy interior. A wooden staircase led upstairs in front of the door, and beside was a hallway leading into the kitchen. A room opened up beside the hallway, where a fireplace illuminated the leather couches and TV. The ceiling was a series of rustic-style oak planks, and a few soft lights hung down.
"You have a very nice home," John commented, amazed at the simplicity. "Why thank you, such a gentleman." She giggled and returned to the kitchen. Upon hearing muffled footsteps, John turned around to the sound at the top of the stairs. A disheveled looking Sherlock appeared at the top of the railing. "John! Come up." John took a moment just looking. The other boy's usually crisp shirt was crumpled from relaxation, his hair was free and tangled. He looked… normal. His chillaxed look was so adorable John thought. "Right." John replied, shaking off his inappropriate thoughts. He finally had a friend and didn't want to ruin it.
Sherlock led John around the railing and into a room. His bedroom was not what John expected. The walls were a plain cream colour, and it was all clean and simple and relaxed. A twin bed occupied one corner of the room, and a blue beanbag chair in another. A double-doored closet took the place of the corner behind the door and the last was a clean dark oak desk. Shelves were placed above the desk, occupied by books and textbooks of the like. A few posters hung on the walls, the periodic table and a quote from a movie John didn't recognize.
The plush white carpet was soft under John's socks, this floor would make a comfortable place to sleep. John dreamed. Sherlock spread his arms, stretching the muscles in his chest against his thin shirt. "Welcome," he said before flopping into the rolling desk chair. John grinned and slumped down in the beanbag chair. "Thanks." What was he doing here, in Sherlock Holmes' bedroom? They'd barely met less than a day ago. "Dinner will be ready soon, we can talk after if you wish." Sherlock said. "Dinner? Oh you don't have to feed me, I can come back after," John wasn't expecting to be fed. "Nonsense, you just had a long walk and you haven't eaten since breakfast, MUM, JOHN'S STAYING FOR DINNER." Sherlock shouted the last bit. "Okay dear!" Wanda's voice rang out from downstairs.
"You sure?" John asked. "Course," Sherlock replied and opened his laptop. Clicking a few buttons and turning on speakers, a bass beat started to beat. It vibrated through John's chest, simple rhythmic beat and rock lyrics. "I didn't know you like rock." John said, humming along. "You don't know a lot of things about me, yet." Sherlock smiled, John returned the expression and chuckled.
After a few minutes, someone was pounding on Sherlock's door and opened it without waiting for a response. Mid opening, a deep voice said something, "Sherlock, turn it down I'm trying to do my homework!"
A taller, ginger boy stalked into the room wearing a fancy vest. Upon noticing Sherlock wasn't alone, his eyes widened. "My apologies, my name's Mycroft. I'm Sherlock's older brother. Regrets, that this was my first impression." The ginger held out his hand to John, who stood up and shook Mycroft's hand. Mycroft looked John up and down. "That's alright, nice to meet you." Mycroft nodded and turned to Sherlock. John didn't see him wink and thumbs up to Sherlock before departing the room.
Sherlock was blushing but John didn't know why. Before John could ask, Wanda walked up the stairs, "Boys! Dinner!" She shouted. Sherlock popped up off the chair and led John out of his room, down the stairs and into the kitchen. Sherlock pulled up another chair for John, who smiled gratefully at the end of the table. Sherlock sat to one side of him and Wanda on the other. Sherlock's brother and must be father strode into the room, deep in an intellectual conversation and took their seats on the inside.
"Dad, this is John. My friend." Sherlock's dad beamed at John, "Nice to meet you," John said. "it's nice to finally meet, you as well, Sherlock talks about you a lot-" He stared before Sherlock interrupted him, "Dad, I think mom needs help with the food." Mr. Holmes' mouth opened and closed, then nodded. "Yes you're probably right. Mycroft snickered, Sherlock blushed, so did John. He talks about me? We only just talked for the first time yesterday though? Questioning thoughts ran through John's mind but scattered when a plate of steaming food was placed in front of him. Meatloaf, grilled veggies and mashed potatoes. His first homemade meal in too long.
John waited until everyone else started to eat before digging in himself, being respectful. The food was delicious, and John couldn't help but scarf it down. "Mrs. Holmes this is honestly the best meal I've ever had." Mrs. Holmes beamed, "Oh I'm sure that's a lie, all I ever get from the boys are burps." Wanda smiled. Mr. Holmes, cutting his meat, said "Complements to the chef." Wanda chuckled. "Wow John, you're really hungry, when did you eat last?" Wanda kept asking questions, to relieve the silence at the table."Erm, breakfast." John muttered. "Breakfast? Oh my! No wonder you're starving. Here, I'll get you some more."
Before John could protest, the woman swiped his plate and refilled it to the top. "Thank you, so much, you're so kind." John said before shoveling in to the second serving. Sherlock smiled beside him. "Happy to help." She returned to her own meal. "So John, where do you live?" Mr. Holmes asked. "Downtown-ish, near Angelo's." john responded, slowing down his eating. "I didn't see a car leave, how'd you get here?" Mrs. Holmes interjected. "Oh, um, I walked." Everyone looked with wide eyes. "But that must've taken over an hour? Why didn't your parents take you?" Wanda asked, genuinely worried. "They're… away." The others assumed a business trip of some sort.
"How long are you staying?" Sherlock's dad asked. "Oh, hadn't really thought of that. I can walk back whenever." John said, he just assumed he'd walk home in the dark. Sherlock's mum would have nothing of it though. "Nonsense, it will be dark soon. It's unsafe, you could spend the night." John internally smiled, yes. "Are you sure, I mean it's no big deal." John retaliated. Wanda placed a warm hand over John's on the table. "We'd love it if you stayed." John grinned. "Alright, thank you so much, I just need a blanket and pillow, I can sleep on the floor."
"Ridiculous, you can share Sherlock's bed. There's plenty room, and you don't want a sore back." Mrs. Holmes sat back. Sherlock's face turned a bit pink, so did John's but the parent's didn't notice, they'd indulged in a conversation of their own.
"Well I better get back to my work, thank you mummy." Mycroft excused himself, brought his plate over to the counter and nodded before going up the stairs. John finished a bit later, washing his plate and cutlery, placing them in the dish drainer. Sherlock left his plate on the counter and looked at John, smiling shyly. "C'mon." John followed Sherlock back into his bedroom after thanking Mrs. Holmes again for everything.
John felt warm and full and whole for the first time in a while. "Do you want to talk?" Sherlock asked politely. "I suppose so," John sighed and sat on Sherlock's bed, bringing his knees up to meet his chin. Sherlock sat next to him, legs spread out in front of him. A few inches separated them, John could feel Sherlock's heat radiating into his side.
John exhaled and began his story.
