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Check out Love-Sherlock-Holmes on deviantART. Request by Ammlott for Share the Sherlock Love week. Art is at (Remove spaces)
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They spent as much time together as possible. There weren't many people their age and even fewer who didn't mind they were Brits. They spent their days playing imagination games that Sherlock made at the drop of a hat.
They spent a lot of time on the beach building sand castles or reading in Sherlock's room, since that didn't exert too much effort.
One day, John arrived a little late and saw Sherlock in a maze of rectangular sand blocks.
"What is this?" Sherlock looked up from where he was making an intricate one.
"London." John stared at the blocks. It didn't look anything like London. Sherlock finished the one he was working on.
"This is West Minster chapel." He pointed to where John was standing. "You're in Trafalgar Square." He pointed farther off. "There's Soho and West End." John stepped out of the square and back up a few steps. It took a moment but he reconciled the unicolor blocks with the blocks on the map. He recalled the map from his trip to Buckingham palace. It looked like it.
Knowing Sherlock, it was an exact replica.
"Sherlock, did you take coffee this morning?" John knew a gulp of black coffee with two sugars was enough so send the little boy into a burst of spectacular productivity.
Sherlock started carving out the office buildings of the financial district. "A sip. Emma wouldn't let me have more." John sighed.
"How's you tell me where the house of Parliament is. I think I know how to make the front." Sherlock grinned.
They managed to carve out half of London before the tides washed their city away.
John did get Sherlock strong enough to go to the carnival at the Warf. There was a lot of fussing and "Don't stay out to late, dears," from Emma, who took to John and his no nonsense ways of dealing with Sherlock's eating habits like a fish to water, and John's mum, who felt a little uneasy that her boy was growing so attached to the littler Holmes but she promptly fell in love with Sherlock when she met him.
"John! Look that bear has the same jumper as you!" John looked down at this striped jumper and to the dangling bear. Sure enough, his sweater was an identical to the toy's.
"I'll win it for you alright, but you have to sleep at your bedtime." John had taken on the responsibility of getting Sherlock in bed at nine every night. Sherlock was a whiner.
Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Okay, but only if you win that bear."
John walked up and paid the man before pining up the air rifle. John counted that he would have to hit the large target and the middle sized targets on either side. He aimed and fired.
One target down. Focus, he told himself. Breathe deeply. He shot again hitting the first middle sized target next. The last shot was a near miss.
John frowned. He put a bother pile of quarters on the table. The man got out of the way. Instinctively, John pulled the trigger.
Bang. John hit the smallest target at the top of the board. When it righted itself, he hit it again.
Bang. By the time he got around to hitting it the third time, there was a small crowd. He took a breath and fired.
Bang. They cheered as the target fell again. The man gestured to the largest prizes.
"That one." John pointed out the bear instead. There was a small chuckled of appreciation as many noticed his jumper. The man gave it to him with a smile.
Sherlock was as wide eyed as many of the spectators. "You are a very good shot." John laughed.
"Not really. Here's your bear." Sherlock took it and gave it a tight squeeze. Then, he got on his tip toes and kissed John's cheek. John heard a few people go "aww" at Sherlock's display of affection. There was a flash that momentarily blinded them.
The man, John read his tag said Steve, was holding up a Polaroid. "I think you deserve a place on our wall." He took the first shot out and had John stand with one arm around Sherlock and the other on the gun.
Click. He smiled as the photos developed. The first was of Sherlock, eyes closed, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek as he looked on in surprise. The other was their posed photo. Steve gave him the first photo.
"Another one?" John looked at the other toys. "That one." He chose a black bear that had a blue ribbon around its neck. By then the crowd had dispersed and they were free to do as they liked.
John introduced Sherlock to the delicacy that was fairy floss, though people there called it cotton candy. Then Sherlock treated him to two rides at the Ferris wheel.
That night, he led a bleary eyed Sherlock up the steps. Sherlock yawned, his mouth opening into a small cavern.
"Goodnight, Sherlock." John tousled the dark hair.
"Good night, John." Sherlock nuzzled the bear and went inside.
"I'll get you!" John chased Sherlock around the room.
"Argh, never you land lubber!" Sherlock waved a broomstick at him. They sparred, sending dust everywhere. John was the naval officer and Sherlock was a pirate. They would fight for treasure. John would bring it back to his queen. Sherlock would keep it hidden if he didn't.
Sherlock won this round and the treasure was hidden again. John, surprised he had lost to an eight year old, was a little disappointed until Sherlock told him he would have never won in the first place. He had too many openings and Sherlock had taken four years of fencing lessons.
Sherlock put his broomstick away. "Why don't we play knights instead?" Sometimes, John wondered where this boy got all of his imagination and adventure from. Sherlock gave him a smirk.
"You'll be the knight."
John laughed. "And you'll be the damsel?"
Sherlock jumped on top of his bed. "No. I'll be the dragon! Roar!"
John frowned. "Shouldn't there be a princess or treasure?"
Sherlock looked about and said, "No. There's just a dragon and a knight." He made his scariest face, which John thought was adorable. Sherlock was as dangerous as a kitten and sneezed like one too.
"Come at me foul beast!" John waved a broom at Sherlock, who roared and threw pillows at him. John abandoned the broom in favor of tackling Sherlock. They wrestled in a fit of giggles.
"John!" Sherlock yelped as the tumbled off the bed and onto the floor. Sherlock landed with a thump and John landed on top of him. They both panted, taking shaky breaths. John couldn't move. His body stiffened as Sherlock wriggled against him.
"John." Sherlock's voice took on a more pleading tone. He looked up with big, verdigris eyes. John gasped.
Sherlock began in a whisper, "You know, the dragon had a curse. He was a handsome prince before he was a dragon." Sherlock began to sit up. "He was the prince of a wealthy country, but was cursed by his evil brother."
"Why?" John asked. His eyes never left Sherlock's face.
"His brother wanted the throne." Sherlock's lips parted and he licked them. "But, there was a way out of the curse. It was that someone would have to kiss the prince when he was a dragon." Sherlock smiled a little. "It had to be a knight."
John leaned forward tentatively. Sherlock met him in a chaste kiss. They pulled apart like an electric shock had torn through them.
John gulped. "But that isn't a real kiss."
Sherlock's smile faded. "But it is to the dragon."
They went on as if it never happened. Sherlock had sent a very well written letter of apology for an eight year old. John had come over with a broom and all was forgotten. They enjoyed the rest of the holiday as the month changed and the chill wasn't only from a yearly anomaly.
Sherlock looked up from the Monopoly board and sighed. "I have to go home." John looked about. Sherlock's room was sparser than usual, but his thing still littered the shelves.
"I thought you are home," John said as he moved his dog. Sherlock rolled the dice and moved his top hat.
"I mean to London. Father's going to be back and Mummy wants us to meet him at Heathrow." John nodded. Their summer days were almost over.
"How long do we have?"
Sherlock fiddled with the pieces. "I leave tomorrow." John gasped.
"You're going tomorrow!" He jumped to his feet. For a moment, he was angry. Sherlock hadn't told him when he was going until the last minute. John knew getting angry wouldn't give him more time.
"You idiot, that means we only have this afternoon." He pulled Sherlock to his feet. "There are so many things we still have to do."
For the next three hours, they made the most of it. They played pirates again and this time John won. John dragged Sherlock into the surf and they raced to the light house. They annoyed the fluffy Pomeranian next door and laughed like they would never laugh again.
That night, Sherlock begged for one last sleep over. John's mum said yes and sent John's flannels along.
"Sherlock, you are an idiot." John curled up next to Sherlock. They were in Sherlock's bed, wishing tomorrow wouldn't come.
Sherlock, whose emotions were already cloudy, whispered, "I know. I just thought… You'd be sad." John nuzzled his soft, curly locks.
John chuckled. "I could never get angry at you." Sherlock snorted. "For long, at least."
There was a soft yawn. "Goodnight, John." A nose nuzzled his neck and arms wrapped around his midsection.
John kissed the head that rested under his chin.
Goodnight, Sherlock."
John stared at the little striped bear in the morning. Sherlock was clinging to it like his life depended on it.
Sherlock's mother, a flame haired woman, talked with his mum. They were laughing. Mycroft was astutely avoiding Harriet, who hated him as a cat hated water.
They were ready to get pile into the thunderbird when Sherlock ran back to John.
"Promise you'll come back. I'll be here." Sherlock burrowed into John's argyle jumper. "Always."
John nodded he knew Sherlock returned to Nantucket every summer. John had asked his mum to let them come back another year.
"We'll meet again, someday." Sherlock wiped his eyes and kissed John's cheek before running to the car.
The blue thunderbird drove away and John held onto his black bear.
We'll meet again.
Someday.
Check out Love-Sherlock-Holmes on deviantART. Request by Ammlott. Enjoy!
himitsutsubasa . deviantart art / we - ll - meet - again - someday - 313173992
