What's one meal going to do anyway? Sherlock quizzes himself. He hated not knowing things. John had left five minutes ago, to scout around the school, his words not Sherlock's. Sherlock was left alone in the room to ponder on his thoughts. His head was screaming, thoughts yelling into his brain cells, he could feel the vibrations against his skull. It was like he was on a case, but his mind was screaming about John. He had only known the man for 10 minutes and seen him three times. In the ten minutes all that had happened was that he was his usual horrid self to John and managed to get a free dinner out of it. That's not how he thought normal people worked. Sherlock thought that if you hurt one, they would go away and never come back. That was his defense mechanism.
Discarding the few boxes left, Sherlock snapped open his laptop. He ignored the email notification, Mycroft coming to apologise? he thought to himself, and "logged" into the Scottish Yard archive again. After he "logged" in, he discovered the top wanted had changed, some man in his late fifties with no name. Interesting, he carried on through the heavily restricted website, signing in as Mycroft Holmes when needed. Nothing of Sherlock's importance took his eye as he scanned through the various listings of National Importance.
John walked through school alone, nodding at whoever looked at him. His mind was racing and body aching. His father bruised his back yesterday for not collecting the mail. He was so relieved to have escape that wretched man. He never told his counsellor about it in the fear he would get arrested. Then he would be mad. He couldn't tell anyone about his father, yet Sherlock knew, that worried John. He wasn't sure he could trust him. John's mind wandered on and on about the mysterious man in his room. Soon he found himself with his face in the floor, he looked up in shock. Standing over him, the greasy haired man who was sniggering into his girlfriend's mouth.
"Oh, sorry, I didn't see you there," once they stopped for air, they were laughing again. John stood up, trying to remain cool, and started to mutter I will not be like my Father, I will not be like my Father under his breath. He stormed off.
Sherlock looked up to find the man who had been controlling his thoughts and allowed a small smile to creep across his face. "You look positively ghastly," Sherlock stated, "what happened?"
"Oh like you care, Sherlock!" John snapped. "Like you bloody care. You are not here for social interventions, you are here to learn and thats bloody it." He ranted.
"John slow dow-"
"No. Ok? I just want to know where I stand with you Sherlock? We are roommates and I have already made enough enemies here already." John exploded, trying to hide his tears, he ran to the bathroom. He slapped himself round the face for doing such a thing, washed his face and exited. "I am sorry Sherlock. It has been a long day." He said, hanging his head.
"Understandable," Sherlock said, making mental notes on John. He is fragile but tries to uphold his image. He doesn't want to seem weak, and he punishes himself for it. I see no evidence of self harm now or previously, only the occasional slap round the face like two seconds ago. Do I comfort him? How would I go about doing that? Sherlock's mind grew increasingly worried. He allowed his human instincts to take over, much to his disgust, and hugged John for comfort. John, shocked by this sudden human movement from the taller man, nuzzled his head to his neck. Breathing in Sherlocks scent, John relaxed a little but grew a little worried about his roommate. Just an hour ago, he seemed like he had no human side at all.
"Um, Sherlock?"
"What is it John? Am I doing this wrong?" John could feel the vibrations from the youngest Holmes' chest. Sherlock stiffened and shuffled away, "I just wanted to... You know, help. I don't know how these things work. I have never, or needed to be, helped anyone before."
"No, no. It's fine, Sherlock. Nice actually. It's just... You seemed like you hated my existence an hour ago. Now, this?" John half whispered, "never mind anyway, can you help me with this form? I don't know what it means." Sherlock scooted closer to John in his wheely chair and grabbed the form.
"Really. This?" Sherlock looked at the tedious form in front of him and clicked a pen.
A few hours past of scribbling and exchanged but never seen looks, John decided he was hungry. "Want to go out now? I am starving"
"Yes. I'll text brother, he'll have a private car outside in seconds." Sherlock went to grab his coat the same time as John did, their hands touched for a millisecond. Sherlock pulled away in horror whilst John turned a deep shade of pink.
"Oh god, Sherlock I am so sorry!" John tried to apologise.
"It's perfectly ok John. Just a mistake. Common, that's my brother outside," he replied looking out the window. A couple of minutes later they were in the back of a black Volvo, second class? Sherlock asked his brother via message.
"This is nice," John said smiling to himself. His mind was replaying the scene earlier. It was only a touch of hands, but it made him feel so special. He just wanted to hold Sherlock again. Oh god, I think I like him.
Later in the restaurant, an over friendly waiter came bounding over smiling maniacally at Sherlock. Sherlock tried to avoid the waiters gaze and John shot Sherlock a questioning look. "Sherlock, hello! Glad to see you old friend!" the man beamed, "what can I get for you and your date, on the house?"
"I will have a small chicken tikka and John will have a lasagna," Sherlock shot the man a wink and dismissed him.
"D-d-date?" John finally managed to mutter.
"Oh, right. I saved his life a few months back. No need to pay." Sherlock said ignoring the date gesture. John tilted his head to the side, to ask why. "He got into some bother with the Ukrainian police. Long story short, I saved an innocent man from death by stoning by sleeping with the executioner." Sherlock said casually, making John laugh.
"Male or female?" John giggled.
"Male, of course. Not that I mind he was a man..." Sherlock said. A small 'oh' came to Johns throat. Sherlock sat directly under light which showed off his facial structure amazingly and muscles under his tight top beautifully, John couldn't help but stare at him. He positively hated himself for this. I can't be gay. I cannot be attracted to him.
Once the man returned with their food, Sherlock and John exchanged thanks and dove in. The food was amazing but unlike John, Sherlock only picked acutely at his food. He couldn't eat, not when his head was like this. His head started screaming louder since the hand touch earlier, and despite multiple attempts of trying to delete the memory, it wouldn't go.
"Sherlock, what's wrong? You have merely touched your food," John asked, mouth full off food.
"I am fine, thank you John. My mind is preoccupied and it doesn't allow me to eat or sleep much when I am like this." Sherlock replied, quickly adding, "just a case."
"A case?" John inquired.
"Yes. I run cases when the police are too mediocre to solve them. I hack the files online, using my brothers log in, and solve them in a matter of days. The police think they are all of this, but they are bumbling idiots when it actually comes to it." He returned to his food. He didn't technically lie to John, because solving cases was a simple pass time for him. But he had a nagging sensation in the back of his yelling mind to tell John how he feels. But how does he feel? I am wrong. I need a doctor. I am sick. I feel sick. I have a pulling on my heart. It hurts. Get out. Out. OUT. SHUT UP. SHhhh. Please... He pleaded his own mind.
"The police don't consult amateurs." John joked, only to be met by a stone cold look. He felt his cheeks redden from the eye contact, he hurriedly looked down in shame. Dammit. "So, what was that stunt earlier? You told me my life story from just looking at me?"
"Yes I did. I can deduce people, John." John shivered slightly to the sound of his name, "That means I can tell a lot about people from the way they hold themselves and how they dress and look and so on."
"Interesting... Show me!" John beamed in glee.
"Really? You don't think it's weird?" In reply, John shook his head. Sherlock continued, "Ok. Well. That man over there? You see him? The one with the yellow shirt?" John nodded again, "he is cheating on his wife, and has been for a while. That woman he is with is a possible new lover, they haven't met before now, which indicates they met online. He has two children and wants more but cannot due to the unhappy marriage. He doesn't have enough money for the bill and is likely to ask the woman to pay."
"Amazing." John murmured after a long moment. "Absolutely bloody brilliant!"
"You know you do that out loud, right?" Sherlock smiled slightly at the compliment.
"Oh, sorry..." John said looking embarrassed. He laughed slightly and continued eating, but never breaking eye contact with Sherlock. Sherlock broke the contact and looked down sheepishly. His mind was angry with him. He was having human emotions, and it scared him. He hadn't had these since his brother 'outted' him.
Once they had finished their meal, the waiter neglected their bill and they were left waiting in the rain for Mycroft's chauffeur. "Commmoooooonnnnn," Sherlock moaned as he double checked to see if the message sent. They were both soaked to the skin, Sherlocks white shirt, exposing him. John, trying not to look, let out a frustrated sigh. He's so damn good looking, John thought to himself in anger. "So, your father,"Sherlock said, trying to kill time.
"I don't really want to.." John feebly protested.
"You should report him to the police, John. He can't hurt you now." Sherlock comforted John from a pat on the back, making him crave more physical contact. John cringed away from the hand on his back. Sherlock suddenly realised why. He changed to just giving him a quick squeeze around the shoulders. This is what people do to reassure people, correct? He asked himself.
"But I can't. He'll find me.. And... And..." He felt his throat choke up. "I really don't want to talk about this to you Sherlock. No offence, but I don't know that I can trust you. I mean, you hack the police daily and you seem like a psychopath.. In the nicest way..."
"Highly functioning sociopath," Sherlock corrected under his breath. "Well, I am here if you want to talk. I have some good counsellors on my brothers contacts too. The best in the country and they would be free under circumstances I could create." He offered.
"It's ok. I am ok. Just, don't... Don't touch my back," John said as the black car turned up. This time it was a Volvo V40, an upgrade. Sherlock smiled a little in gratitude towards his brother and followed John into the car.
Back at the dorm, they dried off and John put their private kettle on. Unlike many of the other rooms in the university, they had a kitchen corner with a kettle, microwave and mini oven. "Tea?" He asked. Sherlock nodded in response and took his top off. John adverted his eyes and immediately regretted it.
"Don't be so... Human, John. We are both men, and we have both the same parts." He continued to strip to his boxers, never not looking taking his eyes off John. Is this too forward? I am just seeing how his response is... Like an experiment Sherlock thought. John's ears turned red and stood back facing Sherlock. The taller man pouted and slipped into a light blue top and indigo tracking bottoms.
"Can I turn around now?" John asked, holding too hot cups of tea. There was a mumble of agreement. John stared at Sherlock in his sloggs admiring his looks. Even in the worse of clothes, he looked amazing to John. He sat down on Sherlock's bed next to the man himself, hoping he wouldn't mind the closeness of him. "Can I sit here?" John asked.
"Yes, that's fine," Sherlock slumped his hand in between them, this is what people do to the people they like? Right? He grew ever worried about the emotions he was feeling towards the man he only had met this noon. "Listen, John-" he turned to the man. John had heard that voice before, it was a confession.
"No, Sherlock... Here... I think I have been too forward with you today. I obviously find you attractive but I don't know if you feel the same way." He stopped for air, "I can request a new room if you want to."
"John-"
"I just can't get involved with a man... My father... And this is too fast and it could go so wro-" he was shut up by lips against him. He melted into the kiss with Sherlock, but raised a reluctant hand to push him away to his chest. Sherlock started to move towards him slowly, filling the gap between them, pulling him closer. But suddenly Sherlock pulled away in shock. "Sherlock?"
"I am sorry John. I just. Oh god." He instantly ran into the bathroom.
HELLO! Beth here! Thanks for reading so far. I don't know if I should carry on, so I'd love to hear what you think