The next day went by quickly, John woke up early, showered went to school and sat through all his classes alone. It had only been a few days since he met Sherlock, but in his friends absence he found himself lonelier than ever. Even the jerks avoided John in fear of engaging with Sherlock. What kept John going throughout the day was the fact that he gets to see Sherlock later. He still feels tremendously guilty but the need for a friend, the need to apologize and make amends was too much to bear.

John finished school, went to work and hurried over the Holmes's dwelling. John took a breath and knocked on the door. Footsteps echoed from inside and a female voice yelled out that she was coming. A few moments later the aging woman opened the door and embraced John with a tight hug. "John, so good to see you again. Sherlock's upstairs in his room, hasn't stopped asking when you'd come around. Oh he'll be so happy!" She squealed then retreated into the house. John smiled, he hadn't stopped thinking about Sherlock either. John eagerly climbed the stairs, although careful not to make too much noise. John rounded the banister and softly knocked on Sherlock's bedroom door, which was currently closed. His door was a light cream color, matching the rest of the house. A simple rectangular design decorated the otherwise plain door.

A soft deep voice came from within, "Come in." John turned the brass handle and walked in the room, smiling. "Hello." John chirped. Sherlock spun around to face John in his chair, and John's grin faltered. Sherlock had a faint black eye and a blunt scrape hiding underneath his curls above his ear. A bruise was just visible under his collared shirt that was undone a few buttons. "Hey, I missed you." Sherlock said, quirking a smile but John's face resumed straight. "Sherlock, oh God, I'm sorry, are you okay?" John scooted over to Sherlock's side and touched his arm. The comforting gesture seemed to perk Sherlock's interest more than intended however, because his eyes never looked away from John's strong warm hand clutching his arm until John reluctantly let go and muttered an apology.

"I'm fine John, no need to worry. It's not your fault." John tried to cut in but Sherlock held up a hand. "No, it wasn't your fault. I chose to punch that guy in the face, frankly he did deserve it but that's not the point. The point is that I'll heal and it's not your fault, okay?" Sherlock pointed his gaze on John, making sure his friend understands. "Okay..." John reluctantly answers. "Great, how'd you like to go to the park, grab some food and hang out for a bit?" Sherlock asked, although he looked a bit shaky. John passed it off as side effects to his injuries and tried to lighten the mood. "Is Sherlock Holmes asking me out on a date?" John chuckled, then realized that he might've embarrassed Sherlock, maybe scared him off, made him feel uncomfortable, but this really was what John wanted and maybe he'd just lost his chance. How inappropriate, he scolded himself, mentally beating his conscious mind. Sherlock squirmed.

"A date is when you ask someone you want to be more than friends with to have fun, possibly eat and hang out, correct?" Unreadable expression. Curious, John went along. "Yea, that's right." John responded. "Then yes, I suppose I am asking you out on a date." Sherlock nervously smiled. Sherlock was… interested in him? As more than a friend? Awesome. "Uh yeah, I think I'd like that." John grinned, still recovering from a welcome shock. "Great," Sherlock replied, relief obvious in his sigh. "You hungry now?" Sherlock asked and stood up out of his chair. "I could eat," John grinned. "Put on your jumper John, might be chilly."

John unzipped his bag and pulled out an oatmeal jumper, tugging it on then following Sherlock down the stairs. "John and I are going out for a bit, we'll eat." Sherlock shouted to his mom in the kitchen. "Have fun dear, be back around 10, it's a school night." She yelled back.

"Uh Sherlock, I don't have any money with me," John asked, frowning. "My treat." Sherlock responded. "I'll pay you back?" John offered. "Nonsense, I asked you out, it's proper for me to pay." John smiled, Sherlock asked him out. Being ever the gentleman, Sherlock opened the door for John on their way out of the house. John shyly smiled and whispered a thanks. Once outside and walking, the taller looked down at John and smiled. John looked back up at him and asked him "what?" "Nothing, I just enjoy looking at you." Sherlock seemed completely comfortable stating the fact which just made John even fonder. John walked just a bit closer to Sherlock.

The boys reached a large park blanketed in semi-frozen grass. The black sky was inhabited by thousands of stars and a bright moon still on the verge of raising above eye-level. A parking lot was filled with food trucks at the edge of the greenery, which was where Sherlock led John first. Still marveling at the vast open rolling hills and strategically placed trees that he didn't notice Sherlock turned away until the warmth of the other was replaced by a chilly breeze. John turned his head and saw Sherlock a few feet away, beckoning to John who eagerly followed. "There's a great taco truck here, one of my favorites. Do you like tacos?" Sherlock asked, voice full of life. "I like anything digestible." John responded, a hint of humor in his voice, in which Sherlock laughed. His laugh was like bells, whole and pure and beautiful.

John had to stop himself from capturing that laugh with a kiss. Sherlock bought them two trays of tacos and carried the bag around a wrist, the other swaying against his side with every step. He led them to a tree at the top of the hill, where they had a picturesque view of the majority of the park. A few lights were stationed around, but everything else looked natural and content. John was in the middle of a taco when Sherlock asked him how they were. A piece of meat fell from John's mouth and tried to catch it but failed, then grinned shyly at Sherlock who in return giggled, finding it adorable. "Ah, they're delicious, best tacos I ever had." Sherlock smiled at his success in finding acceptable food for a first date.

Once all the tacos teenage boys could stuff in their insatiable stomachs were eaten, John looked up at the twinkling stars. "It's beautiful, Sherlock, really, thank you." Sherlock grinned happily and slid his hand into Johns, whose was resting on the ground. John immediately entwined his fingers, and relishing in the contact, shivered. Sherlock took it that he was cold, and retracted his hand to remove his coat to give to John, but before he could John scooted next to him so that their sides were pressed up against each other. John rested his head on Sherlock's shoulder and grabbed the other boy's hand, playing with his fingers. Sherlock put his other arm around John's shoulders, and the latter melted into the touch.

A welcomed silence endured around them, the park empty but for them and a few chittering animals. John could spend forever in this moment, in the warmth of Sherlock and the cool nature at the top of the hill. It truly was a dream moment for John. Then John thought about what Mycroft had told him, about how Sherlock picked one person after another to focus on. What if this was just a fluke, a phase? Sherlock must have noticed John stiffening because he turned and asked him what's wrong. Smiling at the concern, John replied, "nothing, everything's great." And snuggled into Sherlock more, who welcomed the gesture and rested his head on top of John's. All was good, and John's doubts were neutralized, for the moment anyway.