Sherlock normally obsessed over experiments and figuring out mysteries. He didn't bother with people, save for Greg and Mummy. But the enigma that was John Watson compelled him to obsess.
Sherlock always heard the names, the mean words, the vicious taunts. He wondered why people, just mere children, filled themselves with such animosity, why they would waste precious time on having any sort of feelings towards another person.
But this John. He had to know him. The lack of knowledge about him was killing him, although not literally, because that's just plain silly.
So Sherlock followed him, and asked him things.
John Watson was very straight-to-the-point in his answers, and also very blunt when he became annoyed.
Sherlock found out that John lived with his mum and his older sibling, Harry. It had to be clarified that Harry was short for Harriet and that Harry was a lesbian and a right pain in the arse.
He found that John liked to wear ugly but comfortable jumpers. He said they kept him warm. John always wore long sleeves and long trousers. Sherlock deduced that John was not comfortable with his body and had little confidence.
John was shit at things like grammar, but he kept a journal, which he was absolutely dedicated to.
John began to tolerate Sherlock, it seemed. He minded less when Sherlock was around.
However, Greg became disgruntled. He felt left out. "Just shag him already," he began muttering at Sherlock. John found Greg to be sort of whiny. Sometimes John and Sherlock made fun of him to have a laugh.
Sherlock made it to inviting John to his residence. John, being the good, nice boy he was, accepted politely. John was obviously quite impressed by the Holmes residence. He failed miserably at hiding his awe. Sherlock smirked.
"It does look rather big from the outside, doesn't it?"
John nodded.
"Wait until you see the inside," Sherlock murmured. He was very proud of his family's beautiful home. He let John in to the vestibule, where John nearly choked in awe.
"Ms. Claire!" Sherlock called. "We have a guest." The maid appeared quickly and took their coats.
John looked around. "Holy shet...this place is incredible," he said in a hushed tone.
Sherlock ignored him. "My mum is up in her laboratory, and my dad is away at work. So it's just us."
John turned to face his host. "Your mum has a lab?"
Sherlock shrugged. "Mummy's an inventor and scientist, she needs her space."
John shook his head, most likely from disbelief. "Fantastic."
Sherlock led his colleague up to the library, while the shorter boy marveled at his surroundings.
John nearly exploded with wonder at the sight of the library.
"You enjoy books?" Sherlock asked in a murmur.
John blushed. "I- well-"
Sherlock furrowed his brow. "Do you not? But your reaction..."
John's blush deepened. "It's just that, well, you're rich, and I'm awfully poor..." he practically whispered.
Oh, this again! Sherlock threw up his hands. "Money? Really? It doesn't matter in the whole scheme of things!"
John muttered something that sounded like "Easy for you to say, smug arse bastard." Sherlock dismissed it.
They stood there a while in silence, John peering at the endless volumes lining vast book cases. Sherlock, on the other hand, observed John. Little John, with the bags under his eyes and his dry, cracked lips. He looked so tired, so worn, at just sixteen. Sherlock deduced that John did a lot of caring for his mother. Something tragic must have happened with John's father. Finally, John took a breath, and spoke, while still scanning the books.
"Have...you ever had a girlfriend?" John asked quietly, slightly distracted. He set his eyes on a certain book. "Do you mind if I...?"
Sherlock shook his head. "No, go on ahead."
John gleefully picked out the book. It was a very large tome on anatomy. He opened it to a random page and flipped through. "Anyway, my question..."
"When did you start asking me questions?"
John looked up at Sherlock. "Well, I figured it was only fair. Sorry if it offends you, but, y'know..."
"The answer is no."
"Well, why not?" John asked, looking back down at the book in his hands. "No girl good enough? Waiting for the right one?"
"Not interested."
"Oh, um, so do you- You like blokes?"
"People in general do not interest me," Sherlock answered simply. "I like science and mysteries."
John looked back up, his brow furrowed. "But I'm a person, and you seem fairly interested."
"Because, John Watson, you are a mystery."
The blonde smirked. "Brilliant bloke like you should be able to figure me out in no time," he said, a tinge of sadness colouring his tone. Sherlock was thrilled. Secrets! They must be uncovered!
"Boys! Dinner is ready!" they heard Ms. Claire call.
"Oh, uh...I guess I'd better get going then," John said awkwardly.
"No, no, you can stay," Sherlock reassured his collegue...friend?
John swallowed. "Are you sure?"
Sherlock nodded. "Of course, of course. You can meet Mummy!"
"So, John, what interests you?" Mummy asked at dinner.
"I'd like to be a doctor one day," John answered shyly.
"Is that so? Any particular type of doctor, then?"
"I think I'd like to be a surgeon."
"And why's that?"
John's eyes widened. His expression seemed to say "Why do these people ask so many questions?" Sherlock smirked. John answered, "I like to help people."
Mummy smiled warmly. "I think you'll make a great surgeon one day. That must mean you study very hard."
John nodded. He still looked very intimidated. Sherlock reminded himself to reassure John about Mummy.
Mummy turned to Sherlock. "So, Sherlock, when were you going to tell me you have a boyfriend?"
Sherlock choked and John spit out whatever he was chewing.
"Oh," Mummy simply said. "Not yet to that stage, are we?"
John coughed harshly. Tears streamed from his eyes.
That was only the beginning.