A/Note: I didn't see I had more favorites until after I posted my last chapter. So thanks to Bailey Railey, Nickylove (good to see you again!), alliwantisclairity, crazydaisy-in-tha-house and vgerd for favoriting my story so early. Thanks for the reviews. Love you guys!

If you haven't yet, just google Martin Freeman young. There's one picture of him as a teenager and he did look adorable. At least I think it's him. Anyway, enjoy!

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4. A walk in the park

Sherlock could see John waiting outside through the door's window, one leg propped up against the wall, rucksack hanging on one shoulder, thumbs hooked on the pockets. He was looking away, his head in profile, unaware of Sherlock's stare. The jeans were thick and utilitarian, not fashionably thin and tight, but they still emphasised the thigh muscles straining through the rough fabric. John was much more muscular than he looked while clothed (he knew). The veins in his forearms drew attractive lines underneath the tanned skin, covered with the soft fuzz of bleached blond hair. His nose had a perfect line, straight, no bumps. John kept his hair longer and fuller on top, a barely distinct part on the left, and very short on the back. The line of his nape was graceful as it came out of his t-shirt.

A strange flutter spread across Sherlock's stomach. For some reason a strong urge to put his nose on John's nape came over him. He took a deep breath (nothing will ever happen) and stepped out.

'Hey,' John smiled, already turning to walk alongside him.

'Hey,' he tried to sound calm.

'Do you want to go to the café over there?'

'Hm, maybe not there. Just in case Sebastian frequents it too.'

'Good point. Let's just keep walking for now.'

'Sounds good.'

'All right. Now explain: how did you learn all that in only three months?'

Start from the beginning, stay simple. 'My next door neighbour is an ex-service man, discharged after an injury in battle. He's been bored and I needed skills. I asked him to teach me and this is the result.'

'Jesus, I'd love to take classes with him too.'

'Why?' he frowned. 'I don't think you need them, from what I've seen. Plus, you're not a target like me.'

'It was just so impressive, you know? I should've guessed a soldier would be involved.'

Sherlock threw a discreet sideways glance. John's face had gone somber for a second, then he lightened up again and turned, smiling brightly. 'What kind of fighting was it, anyway? Karate? Jiu Jitsu?'

'Mr. Bart jokingly calls it "Bartitsu" just because it's a combination of things he learned on his own plus his military training. There's a bit of everything in it, but what I used today was Aikido, Karate and Krav Maga.'

'I've heard of it. Don't Israeli soldiers do Krav Maga?'

Sherlock was pleasantly surprised. 'Yes, as a matter of fact. It's used in combat training nowadays. And self defence in general.'

'This neighbour of yours, how old is he?'

'Maybe in his forties? Why do you ask?'

'Just curious. Why would he agree to teach you?'

'I kept him from being bored, he kept me from being bored. And beat up.'

John laughed. 'Sorry if my question was weird. I just worried for a second, that's all.'

'Worried? About what?'

'Suspicious interest in a young'un.'

Sherlock paused and it took him a couple of seconds to figure out what John had meant. When he did, he was a bit disgusted. 'Good Lord, not Mr. Bart! Noo! Nope.'

'What is his rank?'

'Major. But he doesn't like to be called that anymore. I think being discharged left him disappointed, so "Major" reminds him too much of what he can't do anymore. Shame, civilian life just doesn't provide an outlet for his skills.'

'Would you teach me that move with the wrist? You know, the one that made Sebastian kneel?'

Sherlock moved his head back, a slight frown crossing his brow.

'Pleease? I'll walk your dog,' he wiggled his eyebrows.

'I don't have a dog.'

'It was a joke, Sherlock.'

'Oh.'

'Well?'

'Well what?'

'Would you teach me?'

'Yes, yes, of course,' he added hurriedly.

'Let's go to that park over there, then.'

'What, you mean now?' Sherlock was taken aback, that was too spontaneous. He usually liked planning things in advance.

'Sure, why not? Unless you have to be somewhere else?'

'No. Not really.'

'Well, let's go then.'

Sherlock paused and smiled as he watched John walk away. He'd have to buy Mr. Bart a bottle of scotch or something later on.

...

On second thought, this might've been a bad idea. Sherlock found himself facing John and holding his wrist. To say he was embarrassed was an understatement.

John looked in both directions, also visibly embarrassed, his forehead and eyebrows crinkling and moving at rapid pace. He swallowed and said, 'Okay, this is awkward and embarrassing. Just show me what you did and let's get this over with.'

'You wanted to learn.'

'Yes, teach me already. OUCH!' John was kneeling on the grass, mouth agape. 'How-?'

'Physics, John. Your wrist can only bend in so many ways. Stand up again. I'll do it slowly.'

John rubbed his wrist and stood up, then held it up again.

Sherlock repeated the technique, slowly this time.

'That is amazing! Can I try it on you?'

'Sure. Grab my wrist. Like so,' he adjusted John's grip. 'This was a variation of a technique, so I had to get you off balance by pulling you like this. This way you can hold my wrist properly, like so. Now if you twist and move it towards my forehead like this,' he guided John's hand, 'the only way for me to avoid the pain is to try to counter the twist by kneeling down.' Sherlock now knelt down. He smiled impishly, 'Physics!' *

'Wow. That's amazing!'

'Isn't it? Mr. Bart is a good teacher.'

'Almost changes my mind about the army.'

'Huh? What do you mean?'

'Nothing, just being-. Well. Thanks for showing me.' He sat on the grass, rubbing and rotating his wrist.

'Not a problem,' Sherlock copied him. He liked this, this camaraderie. It surprised him how easy it was to talk to John, once they got started.

'What else have you learned?'

'Em, a mish mash of "combat" skills, anything needed for a teenager's survival amidst enemy lines.'

John laughed. 'Could you teach me all you've learned?'

'Why?' Sherlock frowned. 'As I said earlier, you don't have my problems.'

'It's just interesting, you know? I've only learned the wrestling basics at my previous school, but in the end I could only pick one sport. Training, competing and playing take up too much time. I liked rugby better, so I dropped wrestling. I don't have the money to actually take martial arts' classes, but I've always wanted to learn.'

That was too tempting of an opening to let it pass. 'If you, em, really want to uh, sure, I can teach you what I've learned.'

'Would you? I'd love that!'

'You would?'

'Of course! I just wished I could offer you something in exchange. I can't even offer homework help. You're smart already, you don't need my help.'

'Oh, there's no need for that.' He was pleased, John had just complimented him on his intellect, something that, his parents aside, no one ever did. Then he frowned. 'You're smarter than you let on. How come?'

John gave him a small smile. 'Survival. I've transferred to this school only last year. Let's just say I know what you must go through with arseholes like Sebastian. I've always fought the bullies - we had history -, but they just never stopped. It was only getting worse, I had to get out of my old school. I had a chance for a new beginning, I took it. Last year I made a studied effort to blend in and I was shocked that it worked. It actually worked! I guess it helped that I got into the rugby team, but still!'

'How did you do that? "Blend in"?'

'You may laugh, but misspelling notes, using bad grammar here and there and not having perfect grades went a long way.'

Sherlock frowned and wrinkled his nose, 'That is disgustingly appalling and degrading!'

John laughed at Sherlock's scandalised face. 'I knew they picked on you, but I had never seen them actually trying to hit you.'

'Thankfully, only a few of them get down to that level.'

'I just never imagined they'd dare to touch you.'

'Why do you say that?'

'You're smart, but not in a nerdy way, more like you're in a different plane altogether.'

'That's the strangest and also the most unrealistic notion I've ever heard. Since when intelligence alone stops punches?'

John laughed. Sherlock smiled, pleased that John had recognised his superior intellect. Nobody had ever talked about it in such a positive way. He was about to tell him about what they used to do to him and the skill he had developed last year, but suddenly remembered what he had seen last term and refrained.

'You seemed a bit - leery - of soldiers.'

John's smile faded and Sherlock regretted his words. He preferred seeing John smiling. 'A bit not good, was it? My question?'

'No, no. That's fine. I just had some issues with one, that's all.'

'Oh. Right.'

But before he could press for more information, John looked up smiling again. 'Can we make plans then? For those self defence classes?'

Sherlock was shocked this was actually going to happen.

John's smile faded. 'Sorry, I don't mean to be pushy. If you don't want to-'

'No!' Sherlock said a bit too loud. He toned it down. 'Not a problem, as I said. When and how often would work for you?'

'Mm. Given my last year, with school and the rugby practice, I think it'll be more realistic once a week. Perhaps during the weekend? Like Saturday afternoons?'

'Works for me.'

'Deal then,' John proffered his hand.

Sherlock looked at the outstretched hand. He usually avoided- 'Deal,' he shook John's hand. He felt an electric current run from his hand, up his arm, through his body, all the way down to his toes, spreading goose pimples from his thighs down to his legs as his hair stood up.

John grinned and wiggled his brow, 'I'll pay you in chocolate.'

Sherlock smiled in turn, relieved that John hadn't noticed the upheaval inside his body. 'I accept nothing less than Yorkies, John.' **

He made an alarmed face, 'I was going to pay you in Toblerones!'

'Humpf. Haggler.'

'What? Blasphemy! They are superior!'

'I'm a purist when it comes down to chocolate John, no additional frills required.'

'Suit yourself, you're pricing yourself down, mate.'

They snorted and started laughing. This might turn out to be a great year, after all.

...

Mr. Bart was very pleased. And gave him some pointers regarding the fight.

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A/Notes:

* That is an Aikido move. I figured that, if he had to teach someone, he'd be talking like that and demonstrating how it works. It's not really the kind of thing that would make sense if I tried to describe it, and I feared it would be just boring and unintelligible. Different teachers might do it slightly different, but similar concept, so you can see what it looks like. Check youtube dot com / watch?v=Jp8LvwfhQkM. If that doesn't work, search Aikido Nikyo Wrist lock defenses: Aikido single wrist grab self defense.

** I had googled something like "Chocolates in England" to see what would be a credible brand. I stumbled upon this article and was rolling and laughing towards the end (I just looked it up again, but didn't laugh as much). I was disappointed at first that Yorkies are simply milk chocolate, but then it made sense to me that Sherlock would be a purist. Plus, I understand. Good milk chocolate is also my favorite (Dove, by Nestlé). metro dot co dot uk /2015/07/07/british-chocolate-bars-ranked-from-worst-to-best-5276158/