John had expected to make a quick run through Parthenia before heading on his merry way across the countryside. He'd already stolen his way through Aranea, but the king there gave him the creeps. John wasn't overly worried about getting caught, but he was certainly worried about getting caught by Moriarty. There was no telling what the man would do to him. The royal family in Parthenia seemed much more pleasant, and, as it turned out, much wealthier as well. He'd steal for a few days—a week at most—and leave before anyone could put his actions together enough to catch him. The kingdom's power stretched into the forest, so John had planned to be well into the mountains by then to avoid being pursued.
But things hadn't exactly gone according to plan. After all, there was no way John could have ever anticipated meeting someone like Sherlock.
After their first encounter, John managed to persuade Sherlock to meet him again the following afternoon at the same time. It was an ill-advised meeting for both of them, to be sure, but John couldn't keep himself away, fascinated as he was.
John almost expected for Sherlock not to show up the next day. It wouldn't have surprised him. He would have been a bit relieved, honestly. It would have saved him the trouble of worrying about getting caught because of this. But, despite all expectations to the contrary, Sherlock was waiting for John in the little clearing where they had first met. A bitter expression was on the kid's face, almost like he was having a sulk about something. John thought it was rather adorable.
"You're late," Sherlock accused.
John smiled in spite of the hostile tone used. "I got detained." He approached Sherlock, stopping when there was a decent amount of space between the two of them. "But I'm here now."
Sherlock's arms were crossed, his expression pulled into a pout. "Yes, well, I can see that," Sherlock said. "Is there any particular reason you wanted to meet with me again? Do try to make this interesting, won't you?" Sherlock sounded far too imperious to just be some peasant living in the forest. He must have been quite spoiled as a child. His clothes looked rather plain—simple and beige—but he looked out of place in them. No, Sherlock was clearly not a peasant, regardless of how he was dressed at the moment.
John sat down across from Sherlock and waited until his companion did the same. "I just wanted to see you again," he admitted. "You're sort of brilliant." At Sherlock's indignant look, John laughed and amended, "Fine, you're completely brilliant. Happy now?"
To his immense surprise, Sherlock actually smiled at that. It was small and fleeting, but John was able to recognise it for what it was. "Yes, as a matter of fact," Sherlock said. "At least I know you're intelligent enough to pick up on that. You might not be entirely dull after all." The ego on this kid was astounding, but for some reason, John thought it was rather charming. Plus, there was something in Sherlock's eyes that made it clear just how pleased he was at the compliment.
John's grin widened. "Might not be entirely dull. Right, thanks for that. You know, your people skills could use a bit of work."
Sherlock grimaced. "Well, you'll forgive me for that. I've only had contact with one person for the last fifteen years or so. That doesn't exactly help one's social skills."
John leaned back and tried to maintain a casual pose. "You said yesterday that you live with someone—with a woman—and that she's the only person you've encountered recently. Is she your mother?"
Sherlock regarded him suspiciously, as seemed to be his habit when his personal life was inquired after. "No," was his short reply.
John couldn't quite stop himself from trying to get a proper answer. He was being nosy, he knew, but he was a bit too curious about Sherlock. "Your girlfriend, then? Or your wife?" Sherlock looked rather young—about eighteen, if John had to guess—but he had heard of people marrying younger than that. John chose not to investigate why he was so disappointed at the thought of Sherlock being committed to someone else.
Much to his surprise, though, Sherlock seemed rather disgusted at the thought as well. "Oh, God, no." He shook his head vehemently. "No, no, definitely not." A shudder worked its way through his body—a rather attractive sight, that. "She's just my caretaker," Sherlock explained. "She's been with me since I was a child." He stared at John quite suddenly, his eyes hard and intense. He seemed to be searching John for something, and eventually, judging by the way he nodded and relaxed, he seemed to find whatever it was that he had been looking for. "When I was very young, someone threatened me. It must have been quite serious. My caretaker was charged with keeping me safe until the threat had passed. From my estimate, I've been living with her out here for fifteen or sixteen years."
John was utterly enthralled. He had known that Sherlock was interesting. He just hadn't anticipated just how interesting he would end up being. "Did you ever consider that maybe this caretaker of yours kidnapped you?" He was sure that Sherlock would get defensive at the question, and John certainly wouldn't blame him. Still, he found himself wanting to help solve the mystery of Sherlock's past in whatever way he could.
Sherlock didn't seem perturbed by the question at all, in fact. "The thought had crossed my mind, but I don't think that's likely. There would be no purpose in her kidnapping me. If she wanted money, sixteen years is more than enough time to get it. If she wanted to kill me, she would have done so long ago. If she was deranged in any way, I'm sure I would have noticed. She doesn't even want to act as my mother. No, I think she's being honest about all of this."
John was amazed at the ease with which Sherlock came to these conclusions. It was remarkable, that talent. Sherlock himself didn't seem to think anything of it. When they had first met, Sherlock had been confused when John had asked him to explain his deductions. It seemed as though he didn't know how extraordinary he really was. John couldn't quite stop himself from trying to fix that. "Incredible." At Sherlock's shocked look, John grinned at him and said, "Really, that's amazing."
Sherlock's expression changed from surprised confusion to ill-contained pride. It was clear that he was preening under the attention, but evidently he didn't want to show it. "Yes, well, it's rather simple, actually."
John noticed that Sherlock sounded awkward when presented with compliments. It was endearing. "You may think it's simple," John said, "but I can assure you that no one else—no one ordinary—would have been able to figure that stuff out the way you did."
Sherlock cleared his throat and studied a weed growing by his hand. That awkwardness was becoming more prominent.
As cute as it was, John decided to give the kid a break. "You said you'd been out here for fifteen or sixteen years. Does that mean you were taken when you were only two?" He wanted to see if his own bit of deduction about Sherlock's age was in any way accurate.
Judging by the look Sherlock gave him, John was rather off the mark on that one. "I was taken when I was five or six," he said. "I'll be twenty-one soon. I'm not that much younger than you."
John found it difficult to contain his surprise. "Sorry, it's just—well, you look like a kid." He worried that Sherlock might get offended, so he hastily added, "Not that that's a bad thing, of course." He hated how flustered he sounded. Sherlock merely smirked, clearly delighting in John's embarrassment. Time for another change of subject, then, John decided. "What were you doing out here yesterday?" he asked.
Sherlock lit up at the question, apparently eager to share this with someone else. "I was looking for samples for an experiment I'm conducting. I took leaves from three different plants and compared how they responded to extreme conditions. From the results, I was able to determine the effects of location and external conditions on the way plants adapt."
John didn't follow any of that, but Sherlock seemed excited about it, so he smiled and nodded along anyway. "Sounds fascinating."
Sherlock was clever, though, and his expression soon dimmed. "You weren't paying attention to any of that," he said matter-of-factly.
John didn't like the way that beautiful face suddenly seemed a bit more closed off. "Of course I was paying attention. It just went over my head, is all. I meant what I said, though: it sounds really interesting, even if I don't know what any of that means."
Sherlock seemed to relax at that. His smile turned smug, and it was ridiculous how well that expression suited him.
"Can I see you again tomorrow?" John asked quite suddenly. He was fascinated by Sherlock, enthralled, and he didn't want to give this up.
Sherlock regarded him warily once more. He apparently didn't trust anyone who wanted to get close to him. John was a bit worried that Sherlock's suspicion of strangers would prevent them from seeing one another again. He was relieved when Sherlock didn't reject the idea right away. "Why?" Sherlock demanded, his eyes narrowed.
John shrugged, trying to keep his expression as open and honest as possible. "I just want to. Might be fun."
That was apparently the wrong thing to say, because Sherlock was pushing himself up and brushing the dirt off his trousers. "I have to get back. My caretaker will be returning soon, and she'll throw a fit if I'm not at the cottage when she gets there." He didn't look at John, instead keeping himself busy with getting his things in order. Without so much as a glance back, Sherlock walked past John, clearly intent on getting back home.
John was on his feet in an instant. He caught up with Sherlock and grabbed his wrist, effectively halting him. "Wait. Just answer me this: will you come to see me again tomorrow?"
Sherlock stared down at John's hand. "I'll see what I can do." He slipped himself free from John's grasp and said, "Meet me here tomorrow, same time. Don't be late." And with that, he slipped beyond a thicket of trees and vanished from sight.
John didn't care that he had effectively been dismissed. There was something about Sherlock, and John intended to explore that to the best of his ability. Even if Sherlock was being touchy about confirming it, John knew that they had another date set up tomorrow, another opportunity for him to spend time with this extraordinary boy.
Hey all! So there doesn't seem to be much of a response to this story, so I'm probably just going to abandon it for the time being. I've got a lot of other prompts I want to write about, so maybe those will keep people interested a bit more! Thanks so much!