A/N: Decided you upload the first two chapters tonight. You're welcome.
Warning this chapter for a bit of kissing.
John makes it very easy for Sherlock to get over his attraction.
"I don't want this any more than you do," John says when Sherlock rolls his eyes at another wrong answer.
"I know. Clearly you were hoping your tutor would be a girl. But your dad chose me because of business, or…whatever. Sorry I don't have breasts and red lipstick. I'd still appreciate it if you stopped staring at my mouth."
Out of the corner of his eye, Sherlock can see John immediately snap his gaze away from his mouth.
John clears his throat. "Uhm. What?"
"My mouth. I thought maybe there was something on it, that's why I am continuously licking my lips, but there's nothing there."
"I wasn't—"
"You were. I don't mind, but if you're not going to be comfortable with it, then I'm not either."
John surprises him by asking, "And if I was comfortable with it?"
Sherlock has to blink ten times to think of an answer. Since he already has a crush on John, he decides quickly that he'd be very okay with it. "Well, I'd be…I'd be…"
"Comfortable, obviously," John says.
Sherlock stares at him. It's the first time he himself has ever been deduced, if something so clumsy and obvious even counts as a deduction.
John laughs. "So, math then?"
The second time they meet, Sherlock deduces what John had for lunch. Yesterday.
John says he's brilliant.
The third time they meet, Sherlock shows John the type of math he does (calculus).
John says he's amazing.
The forth time they meet, John kisses him.
"What was that for?" Sherlock asks.
"I wanted to, is that okay?"
Sherlock smiles. "Sure."
They do study for a little while after that, then John announces that he needs to water the plants outside. Sherlock's surprised when John doesn't stop to water the flowers sitting in pots on the porch, instead he leads Sherlock all the way out to the rows and rows of grapes in the vineyard. John starts the water and picks up one hose to graze over the top of them.
"This is what you do?" Sherlock asks.
John nods. "Sure. Every day."
"You like it?"
"Love it," John says.
Sherlock doesn't say anything more, he just watches John.
John looks over at Sherlock and notices Sherlock staring intently at his neck.
"Uh...alright?" John asks.
"There's a bee on you," Sherlock simply states.
John immediately swats at his neck and does a little dance. "Kill it!" he cries.
Sherlock's jaw drops and he makes to grab the bee off of John. "Are you insane? You can't kill a bee!"
"Why not?! They're pesky little creatures!"
Sherlock captures the buzzing thing in his hand. "They are not! They just want a little bit of sugar, don't ya?"
John rubs his neck. "You're gonna kill it holdin' it in your hand like that," John informs him, nodding at the closed fist Sherlock has around the bug.
Sherlock shakes his head in disagreement. "Look, see?" Sherlock slowly opens his hand when he no longer feels the bee trying to escape.
"How'd it not sting you?" John asks.
Sherlock shrugs. "Didn't want me. He wanted you."
John grins. "'Cause I'm sweeter."
"Sweatier, maybe."
John lets out a soft chuckle. He watches as Sherlock watches the bee walking around his hand. Sherlock's eyes practically glow with excitement, and John likes seeing him this way.
"You got a thing for bees?" John asks.
"I like 'em, that's all."
"Why?"
Sherlock shrugs. "Not sure. I've liked 'em since I was a little kid." Sherlock lightly blows on his palm and the little bee flies away.
"You're an odd ball, you know that?" John asks.
"And yet you let me hang around with you anyway," Sherlock retorts.
John laughs, then takes the hose and squirts Sherlock with water.
"John!" Sherlock cries, wiping his face.
John laughs harder. "Just gettin' your perfect clothes a little dirty."
Sherlock darts at him, but John holds the hose away out of the shorter boy's reach. He punches at John's arm until John drops the hose and runs away.
Sherlock runs after him and doesn't catch up until John stops and allows himself to be caught. John catches Sherlock when he jumps at him, easily tugging Sherlock into his arms and hugging him tight.
John certainly doesn't mind getting wet, too.
The Friday after they kissed, John has a football game.
Football isn't the biggest deal in northern California. If any sport is played, it's golf or tennis. However, football is a big deal in your town when the quarterback is being looked at to play for University of Southern California, University of California Los Angeles, Stanford, Harvard, Yale, Louisiana, Notre Dame, and Purdue. He's good, but John doesn't think much of it.
Tonight, his attention is on the fact that he spotted Sherlock wandering confusedly onto the bleachers. He looks so lost, so confused and adorable and lost, and John actually wanted to run up the bleachers to show the junior where to sit.
But Sherlock quickly finds the Watson family, who are pridefully sitting near the top with the other players' parents. They've grown accustomed to seeing Sherlock around the house for tutoring lessons, and they welcome Sherlock into their circle to watch the game.
John's distraction doesn't stop him from throwing six touchdowns and rushing for one.
"The kid is good," the crowd says.
"He's goin' places," they say.
"Hope he doesn't get caught up with the girls."
Hearing that makes Sherlock blush, if not out of jealousy but out of annoyance that getting caught up with the girls is still an option for a respectful boy like John Watson.
On Saturday afternoon, John takes Sherlock for a walk around the vineyard.
"I can't believe your dad still has a vineyard," Sherlock observes.
"Not just my dad," John argues. "Your dad just bought a share, didn't he?"
"Oh yes," Sherlock agrees. "I forgot about that."
"Your dad told mine that you want to go to Harvard."
"I don't," Sherlock spits as if offended. "My dad wants me to."
"Yeah, I can understand," John says.
"You don't want to go to USC?"
John shakes his head. "No, not really."
"What do you want to do?"
John shrugs. "Maintain the vineyard, maybe. I love it out here."
Sherlock looks at him. For the first time almost ever, John looks relaxed. At school, John looks in fear at the boys and girls around him. Clearly wanting to divert his eyes out of politeness when a pretty girl comes to him, and just as well wants to divert his eyes when a tight-pants'd boy walks by.
Sherlock's stomach turns. "Do you like other boys?" he asks without meaning to.
John bends to pick up a few rocks. "Dunno," he answers. "Do you?"
Sherlock shrugs.
They're silent for a few more feet, then Sherlock asks, "Do you like me?"
John glances at him. "I don't kiss people for nothin'." He tosses a rock as far as he can.
Sherlock smiles.
John tosses the other rock, then wipes his hand on his jeans. He hold his hand out until Sherlock hesitantly takes it.
"Come on," John pulls him along, "I want to show you something."
The top of the hill of the vineyard is where John feels biggest. Not in school hallways, where everyone high-fives him and treats him like a celebrity. Not on the football field either, where he is the hero. He can throw ten touchdowns in one tight, which he's done, and still feel like an ant in this world.
But here, where you can touch the clouds and overlook where blue ocean meets bluer sky, is John's kingdom. The ground below is purple, the grapes more visible than the dirt, and Sherlock thinks of the American tune he learned in grade school, "purple mountains majesty…"
"It's—"
John looks over at Sherlock. "Beautiful."
Sherlock looks at him, locking gray eyes with blue, until John's eyes are dark against his and all he can see is his own reflection. John's lips slowly touch his.
John's dirty hands come up to cradle Sherlock's face and neck, one of his thumbs rubbing against Sherlock's sharp cheekbone and the other hand playing with the hair behind his ear.
Sherlock places his hands on John's hips, then he clutches John's soft t-shirt in small fists. He uses the cloth to pull John closer and closer.
"You're amazing," John whispers against Sherlock's pink lips.
Sherlock smiles and kisses John first this time.
They kiss sweetly for long minutes.
The world around them could burn and they'd never know.