CHAPTER 13. AVOID

Mrs. Hudson placed the freshly baked biscuits on the cluttered table top. She tutted, trying to clear a space. "I may not be your housekeeper dear, but I'll just clear off this mess here. How you manage to find anything in this? I'll make you some tea." She started for the kitchen rising out the kettle, then starting on the sink of dirty dishes. The young dark haired detective didn't look up from his microscope.

"Well he's a handsome boy." Mrs. Hudson picked up a small service picture that had slipped out of the stack of papers she'd just moved to the end of the small table. "Is he someone close?" she smiled fondly, the boy had a kind sort of eyes, in his uniform he looked very handsome, she'd been partial to blonds as a girl, and men in the military had always made her heart flutter. Of course she hadn't seen this picture before, or the young man coming to visit, she wondered how old this was, had the boys broken up. She had a friend Nancy that used to write letters to a young man in the army, she'd always assumed the two would be married but he never came home from Korea. And Nancy never spoke of him again.

The dark haired detective didn't reply but Mrs. Hudson continued on "Such a handsome face I think he has very kind eyes. A lovely blue, where is he now? Or is this part of a case?"

"He-" Sherlock didn't understand why he replied but the words seemed to have tumbled out of his mouth on their own, he'd meant to tell Mrs. Hudson to shut up but instead he replied in his usual bored tone. "He was a friend of mine."

"Shame to lose someone so young. He must have been a special man."

"Why do you say that?" Sherlock frowned.

"You never call anyone friend, but this man you did. So he must have been very special. I think I would have liked him."

"Yes." Sherlock looked past the picture in Mrs. Hudson's hand. "He is very hard to dislike."

"How did he die dear?"

"Die?"

"Well you said he was your friend-"

"Yes he was. He was injured in Afghanistan."

"Was it serious?"

"Yes, he was an Army Doctor he took a bullet to his shoulder. And is now rehabilitating."

"Oh, a Doctor, and a handsome one at that. You couldn't do any worse dear."

"We had a falling out." Sherlock again didn't understand why he was telling her these things. He avoided her look of pity, instead she put the picture back on the table near his microscope. A hand rubbing his shoulder.

"Oh, we all have those kinds of moments. I don't know what happened between you two, but I do know that friends should never give up on each other. He doesn't look the type to give up easily."

"No he wasn't."

"Oh, my dear boy. I suggest you put your pride aside and apologize."

"And why would you assume it was me to cause the disagreement?" Mrs. Hudson smiled patting his shoulder saying nothing else she took her leave.

"I tried but he wont see me." Sherlock muttered to no one but himself. He thought of that first summer they'd spent exploring the woods around the Holmes estate, the trip to the beach the countless experiments successful and some unsuccessful. John had been his constant shadow and Sherlock resented him for it now. Why hadn't he just minded his own business, and done what everyone else did, why hadn't he just disappeared? Isn't that what most people in his life did. He starred now at the picture of John, his face held a tight smile in the sky blue eyes, Sherlock knew so well.

This picture had been taken five years ago, when John was still young before the war added lines to his face and dulled the light in his eyes.

"I don't need you." Sherlock growled pushing away from the table. He couldn't be here in the flat he needed to clear his thoughts, grabbing up his coat he headed out, perhaps he needed to run an experiment on one of the cadavers in the morgue. He took up his riding crop, He did need to test out a theory.

In the cab Sherlock allowed his thoughts to drift away from the task at hand.

~0~

"Hey!" A familiar voice called out.

Sherlock refused to look away from the tree he was currently hacking into with a makeshift wooden sword he'd made using material he'd found in the gardening shed.

"Oh, hello John." He replied in the usual bored tone he reserved for Mycroft and his other handlers.

"Mycroft said we were going to the beach." Sherlock ignored the other boy.

"Oh, I see you are quite well. I thought you had a cold or some illness."

John sighed moving closer to the younger boy, he sat down slowly behind his friend. "Did Mycroft make you an offer you could not decline? Or did he use threats? Maybe both."

"Do you think I'd let old beak face tell me what to do? And if I haven't taken a bribe yet what makes you think I would now."

"Oh, fine. Then what's your excuse?" John made a face, he picked the grass now concentrating on his own hands, shrugging.

"I don't know. But I'm here now. Mycroft said I could spend the night if you want me to."

"I don't need my brother to plan my social calendar-" Sherlock turned on the blond boy, and his words fell away. John was wearing a brown hoodie. Odd, it was summer, John must have some kind of circulation problem seeing how he always wore jumpers or long sleeved shirts no matter how hot the weather. It wasn't the hoodie holding his attention, but the way his friend's hands moved anxiously picking at the grass, his shoulders slumped in defeat.

Well good he was feeling guilty he should, leaving Sherlock there with only his boredom to taunt him and the idiots around him constantly complaining and nagging him for the ways in which he tried to alleviate the boredom.

"So do you want me to stay over? And go to the beach with you?" John looked up at the dark haired boy holding a wooden sword.

Quick eyes flicked over his friends face, Sherlock was young but he was smart, and he'd already put together some of the pieces of the puzzle that was John. It didn't take much to put things together but it confused the younger boy, the feelings that pounded through him, turning his stomach and making him feel as if he'd done something wrong, then anger for whoever dared hurt his friend. Still the six year old Sherlock was unable to put words to this emotion instead he shoved it all aside and decided to avoid anymore awkwardness between his only friend and himself.

"Well you're here already might as well stay." Sherlock plopped down next to his friend, his only friend. "John did you know your eye is a very interesting shade of purple?"

"Is it?" John laughed.

"Hungry?"

"Starved."