*Throws chapter at you and runs*
Disclaimer: I DO NOT OWN SHERLOCK.
Chapter Seven:
John sat back in the armchair, rubbing his temples. "What do you think I should do, Harry?"
"Well, he's your boyfriend, so-"
"He's not my boyfriend." John sighed. "We only met a couple weeks ago."
"Have you had sex?" Harry asked bluntly.
"Harry!"
"Well?"
"No, we haven't."
"Have you gone on a date?"
"Um… I- Not really. We've had brunch together. And we went out and, um, broke into a house together…"
"You what?" Harry quirked her eyebrows up in alarm. "You, John Watson, future army dog, broke into a house with a guy you've only known for a couple of weeks?"
"He invited me out to help him look for clues… for a case he's working on."
"Woah, Junior's a detective?"
"No, not- not really. It's more of a hobby."
"When did you exchange mobile numbers?" Harry queried suddenly.
"Um, a few minutes after we met."
"Bro, I think you may have a boyfriend."
"Shut up, Harry."
"No, seriously. You've eaten together, you got his number, he's been to your house, met your family. It really does sound like he's your boyfriend. And he likes you."
"And how would you know that?"
"He said it himself when he was around here. Said he wanted to help you and make you happy. It was kinda sweet." Harry smiled.
"It was?"
"Yeah." Harry leant forward, leaning on her knees. "Look, John, the most important thing in all of this is how you feel. If you don't like him, if you think you will never, and I mean ever, like him, tell him and, if he's a good guy, he'll go away. But, if you do like him, if you have feelings for him that you're trying to hide, tell him and see where it leads. Your relationship doesn't have to revolve around sex, you know."
"He said as much." John admitted. "When did you become an expert in couple's therapy?"
"I dated a therapist, briefly. She was always talking about that sort of stuff." Harry answered. "So, are you going to go and confess your undying love, or are you gonna break the guy's heart?"
"I- I don't know. I mean, I think I like him, I'm just…"
"Not sure you want that kind of relationship with him?"
"Yeah. He told me that I could marry women if I want, as long as I stay with him. He sounded so desperate and lonely."
"John, don't do anything out of pity. You don't want to do something and then end up ball and chained for the rest of your life." Harry warned.
"I don't pity him. It's worse than that, actually. I understand him. The loneliness, I mean. And he's… exciting. He breaks into houses and can tell you your life story in a glance and I know nothing about him. He's all cheekbones and mystery and he's interested in me. I'm just boring, ordinary John. It doesn't make any sense."
"Maybe he needs ordinary sometimes. Maybe he needs someone to ground him." Harry suggested.
"Maybe… I think I'll go for a walk, and think a bit more." John said, getting up.
"All right, John. If you need anything, just come round." Harry replied, waving him off.
d(^_^)b
Sherlock raised an eyebrow at the scene before him, momentarily bewildered. "From your text, it sounded like an emergency."
"You weren't busy, were you?" John asked, beckoning to the man.
"No, not at all. I just wasn't expecting a picnic."
John looked up from the basket, eyebrow raised. "Do you dislike it?"
Sherlock shook his head, taking a seat on the chequered blanket. "It's nice. But why?"
"I was talking to Harry yesterday, and I realised I know almost nothing about you." John said, opening a bottle of wine and pouring it into a glass for Sherlock. "So, I want you to tell me more about yourself, then I can decide."
"About us?" Sherlock said quietly, accepting the glass.
"Yeah."
"So, first things first, what is your name?"
"You know my name."
"Mmm, but I want you to tell me again. I want us to start from the beginning." John replied, sipping his wine with a smile.
"Is this a date?"
"Maybe. Now, what is your name, mysterious and handsome stranger?"
"You think I'm handsome." Sherlock smiled. "My name is Sherlock Holmes. May I have your name? Or am I just going to have to keep calling you beautiful?"
John chuckled. "You can call me John."
"Well, John, what else would you like to know about me?"
"Hmm, where did you grow up?"
"In the country. My family has an estate there that I was holed up in for most of my life. Unless I was at boarding school."
"You attended boarding school?" John elected to ignore the 'holed up in for most of my life' comment.
"Several. I was expelled from all of them."
"You were a bad boy then?" John grinned.
"Not on purpose. I was just curious about chemistry. And that curiosity sometimes lead to explosions."
"You blew up your school?" John said with raised eyebrows.
"Not all of them. But yes, I accidentally blew up a couple laboratories." Sherlock admitted. "What about you, John."
"I just played football and a bit of cricket. Nothing worth mentioning."
"I think it is."
"Well, I lived in a little town outside of London. It was nice enough, but it wasn't very exciting. A lot of the kids there were… I don't know. They weren't outright mean. I suppose they were like every other kid our age. I did my best to just get through school and get out. What about you?"
Sherlock shrugged, setting down his half-full glass. "Seeing as I wasn't really settling in at my boarding school, my mother hired a personal tutor. He wasn't exactly radical or a genius, but he was interesting enough to hold my attention."
"Did you have a crush on him?"
"No. I've never really felt anything like that, for anyone. I suppose that's why everyone at school thought I was a weirdo."
"You never… you know? With anyone?"
"No."
"No girlfriends or boyfriends?"
"Does it really matter?" Sherlock asked.
"No. I just… I guess I'm just trying to figure out where I stand with you. Wondering whether there's anyone I have to compete with…" John trailed off, looking off into the distance.
"There's no one on this earth who could compete with you." Sherlock said quietly.
John smiled, looking down and fidgeting with the hem of his coat. "Um, would you like something to eat? I- I made sandwiches."
"Well, seeing as you made it… I guess one sandwich wouldn't hurt." Sherlock said. "John, does this mean you're actually thinking about… joining me?"
"I'm not sure. I'm still going to go on tour, do my bit and all of that. And I'm going to use that time to think about it. If I'm there, and all I can think about is you and solving mysteries together, then I'll come back to you and we can get a flat together and just go from there. But, if I get there and you fade to the back of my mind, then I guess it's not meant to be."
"That seems reasonable."
"Are you okay with that?"
"Of course. Take as much time as you need, John."
"You'll wait for me?"
"I'd wait a thousand years for you."
John blushed, trying to hide his face in his hands. "For someone who says he's never dated anyone before, you're certainly romantic."
Sherlock grinned, tugging on John's hands. "I just really enjoy your face when it's such a fantastic shade of red. It's cute."
"I'm not cute." John grumbled, slowly allowing himself into a hug. Sherlock secured his arms around John's waist, even though it was slightly awkward and clumsy. The two stayed like that for a little longer, breaking apart when John's stomach rumbled. And when John left a few short weeks later, Sherlock would return to that little picnic whenever he felt lonely, reliving every word, every touch and every sight until he knew the whole thing off by heart. It would be years before they saw each other again, and when they did, neither would be in the same condition as when they parted.