Under the Downs Chapter 14

A/N: Well, here we are the the penultimate chapter. Like the last one, I've re-written this one a dozen times, and I'm still not happy with it. But its time to get it out there, and sometimes in writing, you have to go with 'good enough', rather than 'perfect'. However, your comments would be gratefully received.

'Sherlock, why did we come?' We are plodding back along the top of the dyke in the middle of the afternoon. Even my lover is starting to show signs of succumbing to the heat. His forehead is beaded with sweat. The girl, whose name (again, predictably) turned out to be Gaia, invited us to share a repast of cheese and onion sandwiches with dandelion leaf salad before we left. Now the onions are repeating on me, and I'm really not sure what the dandelion leaves are going to do to Sherlock's innards. Still, the thing with the mobile phone was worth the walk.

'To find the boy.'

'Come on, any bobby on the beat with half a brain could have gone up to that copse, and found the book, and worked it out. They didn't need the country's best detective.'

'I wanted to come. It appealed to me.'

'You ran away from home, didn't you?'

'Frequently. Doesn't everybody?'

'I didn't.' He looks surprised. I go on. 'Not that I didn't think about it a lot, believe me. Living with Harry does that to you.'

'I can imagine.'

'So tell me?'

'What?

'About you running away?'

He shrugs. 'Not much to tell, really. Best to say that often parents' expectations of a child cannot be met. Or do not align with the child's own world view.'

'They told you off a lot?'

'They wanted me to become a barrister.'

'Well, it's the law. That's not far from what you do now, not really. I mean, when you think about it.' My voice trails off in response to the look he is giving me. 'Okay, well, maybe not, then. Anyway, you felt sympathy with John-Matthew's position.'

'Something like that. I ran away from school too.'

'Why?'

'It was boring.'

'I could see that would put anybody off.' Actually, it's easy to understand how a child like Sherlock, so precocious and inquisitive, would quickly have been bored at even the most forward-thinking of fee-paying schools. He was never meant for such an environment. Which is presumably why he is pretty much self-educated, hopping from one august educational institution to another, cherry-picking whatever suited him and moving on, and certainly never bothering with anything so mundane as taking an examination.

I realise he is fumbling with my fingers, curling them in his own. We have never walked hand in hand before. It's nice.

He smiles, gives a small sigh. His eyes skim the line of the hills. In the distance, the fairytale turrets of the castle peep above the treetops.

'I came here when I was a child,' he says, sounding a little distant. 'For a school trip, to see the castle. I skived off, of course. Why should I be interested in that old fossil of a castle anyway?'

'Maybe for the dungeons,' I suggest, aware of his delight in the macabre. He ignored me.

'I walked up the river and sat on the bank. It was the strangest thing. I've never felt at home anywhere, at least not until I met you. But here, I felt like I was coming home. Like I belonged. I've never belonged anywhere, except with you. It calmed my mind. Can you understand that? It made me feel peaceful, this land, this chalky place. I don't know why. I've never been able to escape from the whirl of thoughts inside my head. It's so frantic in here, John, it makes me feel queasy sometimes. There's only one thing that's ever allowed me quiet, one place. Here. Here, I can actually think straight. Perhaps that's why I wanted to come back. To see if I had imagined it.'

He considers this for a long time while we walk, swinging clasped hands.

'Did you?' I ask him. 'Imagine it, I mean.'

'No.'

He smiles. He looks relaxed. I don't think I have ever seen him look relaxed. It is bizarre. And indescribably beautiful.

'I like it here,' he says, eventually. 'I definitely think we should retire here. I could keep bees.'

'You're always on about keeping bees,' I blunder, still trying to get my head around what he has just said – the part about having a peaceful mind, and the part about retiring together, which I wasn't expecting him to remember from before. 'I don't see why you can't keep them in London. Plenty of people have hives on their roofs these days.'

'It's not the same, though,' he says. 'We'd need a nice garden. You like gardening, don't you?'

'Do I have a choice?'

'You always have a choice, my darling.' It is the first time he has used such an affectionate term towards me, and it sends a little shiver down my spine. Impetuously, I pull him into my arms and look up into his sky-blue-sea-green-silver eyes.

'I will find us a cottage, and make you a garden full of flowers, and build you as many hives as you want,' I tell him.

'Be careful, Doctor,' he whispers. 'You may be at risk of spoiling me.'

'Since when was that a problem?'

Tomorrow, the otter part…