SHVoLB 7

(A/N: Yeah I don't got much to say… so READ IT. Please?)

The following day proved that Monica had not yet exhausted herself in showing Holmes and Watson all of the wonders of this new world.

"I'm going to take you guys to see a movie," she declared, slamming her palms down on the table in front of the two men who were drinking their tea.

"Er…what?" Watson asked, looking to Holmes questioningly.

"They come on the television sometimes," the detective said, "Why must we 'go' see one?"

"No, I mean like a new movie, one that's playing in the theatres, you know?"

They both stared at her blankly until Holmes said, "…I thought the point of movies is that you don't have to go to the theatre, seeing as they are not performed live."

She sighed in frustration. Explaining the future was turning into quite an ordeal. "Well no, it's not live you see…there's this big screen and a projector and…" blank stares all around, "Never mind, you'll see soon enough. Hurry up and get dressed."

The previous day had proved that it was easiest just to do as their mentor said, so Holmes and Watson were ready and in the car inside of an hour.

"Oh, by the way guys, what with all the extra spending I've been doing, I'd rather not pay for theatre food so…we're going to McDonalds for lunch," they remained silent and she once again felt stupid for expecting some sort of reaction.

"Is that some kind of farm?" Watson asked, perplexed.

Monica laughed out loud, "Nope, more like a restaurant."

Holmes perked up a bit at the sound of that, "With futuristic cuisine, I would imagine?" he asked hopefully.

"It depends, you ever had a burger?"

"What?"

"Exactly."

"What kind of service is this?" Holmes queried, looking about the small establishment, "I don't see any waiters."

"That's because you have to walk up to the counter to order," replied Monica as she took her place in line.

"What?"

"Holmes…"

"How the tables have turned! Do all restaurants behave like street-corner stands now?"

"No, but this is a fast food place, for people who are in a hurry or really lazy…or in my case, cheap-arse."

Holmes and Watson stayed close behind Monica until Holmes's attention was caught by a plastic case filled with brightly colored toys. He wandered over to it, appearing quite fascinated before saying, "Monica, are we getting 'Happy Meal's?"

"Ffff-No…" she replied, chuckling.

"But they give you these," he whined, pointing to the case of toys.

"Why do you need one of those?"

"Study."

"Come now, Holmes, don't be ridiculous," Watson almost pleaded.

"It's not ridiculous!" he looked slighted at the very idea, "This is for science, Watson. Science."

Watson rolled his eyes, "Holmes, just…"

"Fine, okay? Fine," Monica blurted, startling them both into silence as she approached the counter. "Okay I need a number one and a… Happy Meal," she added darkly, cutting her eyes at Holmes who grinned at her, "and um…you like chicken, Doc?"

"Wh- yes?"

"One McChicken and three large drinks."

"Do they have frappuccinos here?" Holmes barely whispered the question before she barked out a "No!"

They had finished their meals when Monica excused herself to go to the ladies' room.

"No, Holmes."

"I'm sorry?"

"I know you've been staring at those brightly colored tubes and slides this whole time and the answer is absolutely not."

But Holmes was already up from the table and walking towards the play-place. "I merely wish to see what they're made of, Watson; to observe modern architecture."

"Architecture? Holmes, I'm not sure you can actually consider it archi- DON'T YOU DARE!"

Alas, Holmes had already entered the blessedly empty playroom and was climbing into one of the tubes.

"I'm not coming in there to save you when you get stuck," Watson said tersely, facing back towards the table. There was no response and after about a minute he was starting to feel anxious. With a muttered curse, he finally got up and followed him.

He poked his head into the tunnel that Holmes had previously entered, calling out his name. He waited. There was no response. He heaved an angry "I can't believe I'm actually doing this" sigh and climbed in after him.

He crawled along, his height being a bit of an issue in the confining tunnel but continued to call his friend's name. He passed by a large plastic bubble of a window, just in time to see Monica coming back from the restroom and spotting him, her jaw dropping to the floor. He tried to make some kind of reassuring gesture, failed, and decided to just move along. The tunnel opened to a net that connected it to another tunnel. He stared at it for a moment, wondering if he, indeed, had to crawl across it. He looked around and to his dismay, saw no other way across.

The crawl across was awkward and unstable and his knee was really starting to throb from the pressure. He resolved to kill Holmes if he ever made it out alive. The second tunnel happened to be a bit smaller than the first, causing Watson to lower himself to an army crawl, bringing back harsh memories of his war days and he suddenly felt extremely claustrophobic. He tried to get back up when he felt his shoulders wedge against the sides of the tunnel. His gut twisted sickeningly and he tried to move but to no avail, he was stuck. He tried to wriggle around and then the wriggling turned to thrashing and finally he fell forward and onto his face. With a grunt, he dragged himself forward and around a corner.

There he saw it, an opening in the tunnel! Excited for an escape, he picked up his pace, only to have the ground seemingly rent from under him and he was sliding headfirst and screaming all the while. He found himself hanging halfway out of the slide and noticed a familiar pair of shoes in front of him, peeking out from under a pair of ripped jeans. Slowly, he lifted his head to find Holmes there, licking at an ice cream cone and looking at Watson like he had flipped his lid.

"Where the hell were you?" Watson demanded, pulling the rest of his body out of the slide.

"Uh…I went for ice cream," he said, showing him the cone.

"How long were you in there?" he asked, gesturing madly toward the tunnels.

"About a minute and a half."

Watson felt his face flush as he ground out through gritted teeth, "Ten minutes. I was up there for ten minutes trying to find you."

"…I thought you weren't going to come and save me," Holmes quipped with a sly smirk.

"Yes well…um..." Watson cleared his throat, brushed out his shirt, and inelegantly left the room.

The ride to the theatre involved Monica reprimanding them for their utter lack of social grace and Holmes whining because he had gotten a girl's toy in his Happy Meal.

"What in blazes is My Little Pony?" he asked, turning over the small pink horse in his hands.

"Give it a rest, Holmes."

"But they had Ben 10!"

"WE'RE HERE!" Monica shouted, swerving sharply into a parking space, "Honestly, you two bicker like a married couple!"

Holmes laughed lightly, ducking his head and hoping the embarrassing flush on his face was unnoticeable. Watson was set to chuckle when something dawned on him, 'Married couple…Married…Mary.' He barely contained the gasp of the woman's name that escaped him at the realization that he had not once thought of his wife-to-be. Holmes shot him an odd look at the shocked expression on his face. Holmes… Watson couldn't explain why the sudden remembrance of Mary dropped like a cold stone into his stomach.

Holmes and Watson had settled into their theatre seats and knew not what to expect. At first, it just looked like a large TV screen with music playing lightly in the background. But then, the lights lowered, the screen adjusted and images flashed onto the screen, a preview, loud noises and music and everything was exploding and unsurprisingly, the two men were startled out of their wits. Holmes's hand had accidentally latched onto Watson's wrist in a panic, causing the doctor's mind to go fuzzy for a moment before the blasting ended and Holmes quickly retracted his hand, keeping his eyes firmly on the screen.

Thankfully, the feature presentation didn't include any exploding. It was actually quite light and humorous and both were enjoying it until there was a…disruption…in the row in front of them. A young couple had engaged in a passionate display of necking accompanied by soft moans which earned them "shushes" from farther down the row. They cared not and proceeded to kiss quite openly, the woman nearly crawling on top of her gentleman companion.

Holmes and Watson were stunned to say the least, not wishing to look but they were being quite hard to ignore. Watson cleared his throat unnecessarily, his hands clenching and unclenching on the armrests. There were thoughts stirring in his head…thoughts that he was scared to explore…thoughts that didn't involve Mary until her face blazed before him in his mind's eye, glaring at him accusingly. He swallowed hard and tried his best to ignore the couple.

He was soon alleviated, however, when Monica leaned over and kicked the back of the man's seat roughly, "Oi! Some of us are trying to watch the movie!"

The young lovers gave her dirty looks but the presence of Monica's two male companions and the applause that had erupted around the theatre quieted their objections. The rest of the film continued, uninterrupted.

Holmes couldn't help but notice the way Watson had been nearly unreachable all evening. He only responded occasionally and sat pointedly farther away from him in the car. Watson thought that he had not heard his sudden revelation before the movie but he had. He knew he was thinking of Mary and then with disgust, remembered the couple in the theatre. He was probably thinking of that woman and missing her the whole time and now he was distant.

When it came time for bed, Holmes lay on his side, facing away from Watson, unable to sleep. Inevitably, the same question kept circling through his head: 'What does she got that I haven't?' He felt silly and childish to be thinking this way, 'Of course Watson wants her. She's his fiancée, she's polite and pretty, and moreover, she's a woman. He doesn't put up with her like he does you…he loves her. You're mad to even consider…'

"Holmes," Watson sighed, roughly pulling the covers toward himself, "you're such a blanket-hog."

He had meant it to be playful, meant for Holmes to respond with a clever jibe but instead, his voice was dangerously quiet, resigned, "I'm sorry. I'll sleep on the floor…"

"W-what? Hey, I was just…you don't have to!" Watson pleaded apologetically but Holmes had already risen and grabbed his pillow. He pulled the throw from the end of the bed and curled up on the rug in a miserable ball. He did nothing to stop the tears that prickled in his eyes and trickled over his nose.

(A/N: OMG did this story just get DEEP? XD Anyway, I have a couple people to thank for their lovely ideas! Majerle and Newly-Revived, thank you guys so much!)