a/n Part four! Please leave me a review, reviews make me happy. Part five will be a bit along the way yet so enjoy!
After pushing through the people who had crowded the lobby they finally made it outside. Sherlock leaned against one of the walls by the car park and pulled a cigarette out of his pocket, which was followed by a silver Zippo lighter. He lit the cigarette and took a long drag, blowing the smoke out slowly. He could see John looking at him so he turned towards him.
'So how did you find the film?' John asked, his face still a little pink from blushing and the sudden blast of cold air,
which hit them when they exited the building. 'It was...Interesting.' Interesting, was the only word Sherlock could think of to describe the experience. He was still unclear on what caused John's reaction to his touch. 'Do you know where Greg and Molly have got to? He was my lift home.' John lived the other side of town from here and his mother didn't drive. 'So how are you getting home?' Sherlock questioned, to which John replied with a shrug and a frown. Whipping his phone out Sherlock began to text quickly.
'Would you like to come over to my house John? My brother could arrange to get you home, if you like.' Searching his contacts for Mycroft's name, he pressed send. Mycroft was in Sherlock's bad books right now, so he was making him pay for it by getting him to do everything for him.
John's face suddenly turned from a frown into a wide smile.
'If that's okay with your parent's Sherlock, I wouldn't want to intrude.' John blushed again. He really needed to do something about that. 'My family aren't around much, just my brother mostly.' Sherlock answered flicking his cigarette end, John watched the little orange dot loop in the air and disappear. Sherlock's phone bleeped in his pocket and a large shiny black car pulled up outside the cinema. Nodding to John, to say this was for them Sherlock opened the door of the car. Once they set off towards Sherlock's house he could see John fidgeting out of the corner of his eye.
'Problem?' He asked.
'Urm no it's just, is this your brother car? because it's really fancy.' He looked in awe at the interior. 'It's one of them, he has plenty to spare.' Sherlock replied not looking up from his phone. The car slowed to a stop outside a large 3 story house with a gravel front garden and big bay windows. 'Mr Holmes.' The driver called through to the back, which made Sherlock look up. He thanked the driver and got out of the car, holding the door for John again. 'And this is your house?' John pointed at the house, his mouth open slightly. To which Sherlock nodded and pushed open the gate.
Unlocking to door, he ushered John inside. The small boy looked even smaller with the vaulted ceilings of the entrance hall. 'This way.' Sherlock said striding up the stairs. John was still stood awkwardly in the entrance hall, taking in the surroundings. This was not how he pictured Sherlock's house to look. There were no homely things, like family pictures or trinkets just pale cream walls, a strange piece of artwork, and a mirror. 'John.' Sherlock shouted from the landing, this made him jump a little and he made his way up the stairs. It was quite hard for him to get up them quickly as the steps where large, and John being not gifted with stature was a little slow. When he reached the top he saw Sherlock tapping away on his phone again. '3rd door on the left is my room, I have to make a phone call.' He pointed down the corridor and John nodded. He saw his curly hair disappear back down the stairs, so he made his way down to Sherlock's room.
When John reached Sherlock's door he twisted the handle and it clicked open. Pushing gently on the wood of the door he entered the room. Sherlock's room was nothing like the rest of the house. There were clothes on the floor in small piles and books everywhere. On every available surface there was at least on book perched on it. His room had one of the big windows like on the front of the house, there was a seat in the window with his laptop, an ashtray, and a skull on the window sill. The blue curtains on his bed were drawn and the desk chair was covered in books and clothes, so it looked like the window seat was the safest place to sit and wait for him to come back. John walked over and flopped down into the corner of the seat, picking up the skull and inspecting it. He wondered if it was a real skull, with Sherlock being well Sherlock he suspected it was and put it down quickly. He heard a door slam downstairs and footsteps coming back up the stairs.
When Sherlock appear leaning on the door frame, still texting.
Sherlock walked into the room, pushing the door closed with his foot and sliding his phone into his jacket. Moving over to where John was sat, he opened his window and took out another cigarette. 'You know those are bad for your lungs?' John said pointing at the cigarette 'They cause breathing problems.' Sherlock raised his eyebrow, flicked his lighter and took a drag.
'Urgh breathing's boring.' Taking another drag. 'Would you like to stay for dinner?' Sherlock asked tapping the ash into the crystal ashtray. 'My brother isn't answering his phone so getting home won't be until later, would you like to ring your parents? tell them you are here.' Flipping the silver mobile in the air He passed it over. John smiled and tapped in his home phone number, his mother had a mobile but rarely answered it. She proclaimed that it confused her, she really wasn't very good with technology.
The light dialing tone beeped in his ear and went on for what felt forever, before he heard his mother's chirpy voice.
'Hello?' Even Sherlock heard it from the phone, her voice seemed to resonate out of the speaker and around the room penetrating everything. Sherlock began trying to deduce what John's mother was like. Short, blonde hair like John. Green, no Hazel eyes and wore lots of jewelry.
She had a small dog, Yorkshire terrier. He could hear it the background from the phone. 'Hey mum it's John, I'd just thought I'd tell you I'm at a friend's house and I'll most likely be late home.' John was smiling and nodding, I hope he realised his mother couldn't see him.
'Okay sweetheart, just be quiet when you get in, your sister is asleep.' Another resonating sentence from the mouth of Mrs Watson. So he had a sister, judging by the context of the sentence a younger sister. 'Alright mum, I'll see you later I love you.' Hanging up and passing the expensive phone back to Sherlock, John looked at him and smiled again. 'So, what's for dinner?'
Getting up from the window seat swiftly, Sherlock grabbed his cigarette packet and gestured for John to follow him. Moving back down the staircase and down another corridor, John had found himself being led into a spacious kitchen. Equipped with what appeared to be every kitchen appliance known to man. Standing in the doorway of the room, mouth a gape he saw Sherlock giggle. 'Your house is massive, seriously.' Were the only words John could muster. Walking into the room, he perched himself on one of the tall breakfast bar stools. Pulling a giant cookbook out from one of the cupboards, Sherlock joined him on the stools.
Making a bit less of a prat of himself as he didn't need to jump a little, like John did. Dropping the book down on the granite worktop Sherlock stared at the cover. 'Have you ever actually cooked anything before?' John asked, there was a note of concern in his voice. Concern which was heighten when Sherlock answered 'no'. Opening up the book, they scanned the pages for something that looked simple to make.
After ten minuets of flicking they eventually found a pasta recipe. Sliding down from the stools, they set to work on finding the ingredients.
Sherlock had managed to find a few items on the list of ingredients and had set John to work chopping tomato's. He was searching the cupboard above the stove for pasta. Stretching up to reach the back of the cupboard, his trousers started to slide down. He could feel John's eye's on him, so instead of pulling them up he reached into the cupboard further. His arms were right at the back of the cupboard and he could feel the top of his pants and lower back were on display. He was glad the underwear he'd chosen was sensible, not some scruffy worn out thing. Pulling his head out, he looked at John who was again blushing. So to lighten the mood slightly, Sherlock aimed a piece of pasta at his head. He saw John jump and pull a face. But moments later he had grabbed a piece of tomato and launched it across the room. It hit him square in the face, and slid down onto his shirt. Leaving a slimy trail down his face. John had called it, it was now on. In a blur of pasta, sauce and flour they found themselves covered from head to toe in the contents of Sherlock's kitchen.
Giggling, they finally decided to order a pizza. Sherlock made the call and within minuets the door bell was ringing. Walking to the front door, Sherlock was beaming. He hadn't been this happy in a long time. Greeting the young delivery boy,
he remember he was covered in flour and pasta sauce. Slapping the money in his hand, the boy left in a hurry. Balancing both pizza boxes, Sherlock made his way back to the kitchen. Pushing the door of the kitchen open with his foot, he saw John's face light up. 'Pizza!' Sherlock shouted with a smile on his face. Sliding the box across the breakfast bar to John, he sat down on the stool. Picking up a slice John munched happily and Sherlock watched him, he looked so happy. He was blissfully unaware of how this simple act made Sherlock feel. Pushing his own slice around the box he was reluctant to eat it, but to avoid suspicion he did. He had only managed 3 slices before John had finished his. Placing his and John's boxes in the bin they exited the kitchen and John sniffed his shirt.
'Wow, I really need a shower.' flicking a piece of tomato off his shirt as he spoke. An idea formed in Sherlock's mind.
'You can use mine, if you like.' Sherlock pointing to the floor above, were the bathroom was.
'If that's okay, sure.' Before John had finished speaking Sherlock was already bounding up the stairs, towel in hand.