A/N: Hello, readers! This chapter has a warning for talks of suicide and depression. Not from our characters, don't worry, but it is mentioned. Thanks for reading!
On Friday, Sherlock is reminded that Olive asked him to dinner.
"Oh…" he says when she tells him about it. He closes his locker and they begin to walk down the hall. "Why do I have to go again?"
"Because my parents don't know Lane exists."
"Mmm," he sounds. "Alright. As long as we can do my anatomy work."
"I already agreed to help."
"Well, I've had it for half the week and you still haven't."
"Well excuse me if you've been too busy."
"I've been too—"
Olive laughs and playfully shoves him. "Has John given you a new case yet?"
Sherlock shakes his head. "No, I can't have a new one until my anatomy grade is up." Sherlock takes his phone out of his pocket and checks it.
"Hey, didn't your dad take your phone away?"
Sherlock shrugs. "I stole it back."
"He hasn't noticed?"
"Oh, I'm sure he has."
"Wow," Olive says. "My dad would kill me."
Sherlock shrugs again, then looks around down the hall. "Where in the world is John?"
"I just saw him with Brady."
Sherlock looks at her. "Where?"
"At the front doors."
Sherlock frowns.
Olive pokes his arm. "You are such a baby."
"Am not."
Olive rolls her eyes. "Whatever. Alright, I'll meet you out front after school. Just come home with me and we can work on your anatomy before dinner."
"Alright," he agrees.
"Go find John."
"I am!"
Olive laughs. "Big baby. See you later."
"See you," he says, then leaves her at her class to go to his own.
When he finds John outside of the classroom, he hugs John and pulls him away from Brady.
"See you later," John tells Brady, then lets Sherlock take him to class.
"What's later?" Sherlock asks.
"Well, lunch, first of all. Then I'm going to his house this evening."
"Why?" Sherlock questions.
"What do you mean, why? To hang out."
Sherlock pouts.
"Oh, you can go to Olive's but I can't go to Brady's?"
Sherlock shrugs.
"If your dad lets us, I'll spend the night tomorrow night."
Sherlock huffs, then nods. "Fine."
The rest of the day goes by slowly, and at the end of school Sherlock waits outside for Olive. John had left with Brady, so he plays with a cigarette that Harvey gave him at lunch.
"Don't do that!" he hears as he presses it to his lips.
He nearly drops it in shock while turning to Olive, who shouted at him. "What?!"
She grabs it from between his teeth. "Oh," she sighs. "I thought it was lit."
He scowls and snatches it again. "What's it to you?"
"My dad would smell it and he wouldn't approve."
"Approve of?"
"You," she says, leading him off the front steps.
"Why does he need to approve of me?"
"He just needs to see that you're not fucked up or something. You know? Not crazy, not a criminal, not out to kill people."
"Do you know many crazy criminals out to kill people?"
Olive grins. "You'd be surprised."
Sherlock just stares at her.
"I'm kidding!" she cries. "I used to hang out with a bunch of bad kids. I'm the only person who knew about tagging, remember?"
"Oh, right," he says. "Why don't you hang out with them anymore?"
"Some stuff happened and I couldn't anymore," she nonchalantly says.
He looks at her and senses there's more to the story. Obviously there is, because of how vague 'some stuff' is. But he's learned better than to ask and pry, so he drops it.
When they arrive at Olive's house, her dad is there already.
"Home early," she greets her dad as they enter the house.
He stands and hugs her. "I had nothing to do this afternoon, so I came home to clean because your mother can't do dishes to save her life."
Olive laughs and he kisses her head.
"Dad," she says, "This is my friend, Sherlock Holmes."
Her dad looks at Sherlock with a shocked expression, as if just noticing him for the first time. "Oh!" he cries. "Oh, Sherlock. My goodness, you're real!"
Sherlock laughs and takes the offered hand to shake.
"I'm John," her dad says.
"Oh, John. That's my…" Sherlock glances at Olive. He would say that John is his boyfriend's name, but this once he cares about the impression he gives off, so he doesn't make it known that he's gay right away.
"I've told my dad you have a boyfriend," Olive tells him. "Give me your coat."
"Oh…" Sherlock takes his coat off and hands it to her.
John steps over to the sofa and pats the cushion next to him. "Sit, Sherlock. Olive tells me you're quite the detective yourself."
Sherlock shuffles over and sits down. "Yes, sir. I like, uhm, figuring things out."
"Deduction, yeah? That's what you call it?"
"Yes, sir."
"Do you want to be a cop when you grow up?"
Sherlock shrugs. "I haven't thought about it, honestly. My brother's boyfriend is a cop, so I'm going to watch him to see if that's what I want to do."
"Who is your brother's boyfriend?"
"Gregory Lestrade."
"Oh, Greg, yeah, I know him. Promising young lad, I think."
Sherlock nods.
"Well," Olive returns to the sitting room. "Want to go upstairs to do homework?"
Sherlock nods and follows her.
"It's nice to meet you, Sherlock," John tells him. "We'll talk more at dinner."
"Of course," Sherlock politely says.
He follows Olive up to her bedroom, which is not at all what he would expect. The walls are painted light blue, her bed duvet is brown, and there are a few photos tacked to a cork board. He doesn't get a good look at them before she tells him to sit at the desk.
He continues looking around as he sits.
"What?" she questions.
"Nothing."
She barely even glances at him before saying, "Not what you expected."
"Well…" he mutters, "…not exactly."
She laughs. "What did you expect? Graffiti?"
He shrugs.
She shakes her head. "I am quite simple."
Sherlock nods.
"Besides," she continues while clearing off her desk, "I've seen your bedroom and it doesn't quite match you, either."
"It doesn't?"
"No," she says, "It's clear, almost. White walls, white bed, white desk…it looks like it came out of an Ikea catalog. The rest of your house, however, matches you. Dark hardwood floors, violet walls, dark furniture. Why is that?"
Sherlock shrugs. "I don't know."
"The rest of your house is what's on your outside, your bedroom is your head."
"My head? You just described my bedroom as 'clear'."
"Clear…organized."
"Hmm," he sounds.
"Anyway," she says, looking at him. "Anatomy?"
He pulls his bag onto his lap and takes out his book.
Right as he's about to start, Olive's mother barges into her bedroom.
"Oh," she sighs, smiling. "Dad said you had a friend over."
"Mum!"
"I'm Jane," she says, smiling widely while shaking Sherlock's hand. "You're Olive's friend."
"Sherlock, yeah," he says.
"Sherlock," Jane beams at him. "A friend. That's just wonderful."
Sherlock nods, then looks at Olive.
"Mum, please leave. We're trying to do homework."
"Homework, right! Great! Homework with a friend!"
"Oh my god," Olive mutters, burying her face in her hand.
"Do you two need anything?" Jane asks. "A snack, maybe? Something to drink?"
"We're fine, Mum," Olive growls.
"Right, well, holler if you need anything!" With that, Jane cheerily leaves the room, muttering something else about a friend.
"Sorry," Olive says. "They're easily excitable."
Sherlock just nods, then gets back to his work.
They get two pages done before the questions burning in Sherlock's mind gets to him. Why does Olive need to prove that she has friends? Why was her dad surprised when he met me? Why was her mum so cheery about meeting me?
"Olive?" he starts as she flips to the third page of his packet.
"Sherlock?"
"Why was your dad so astounded by you having a friend? Why is your mother so excited about it? About me?"
Olive shrugs. "I don't make many friends."
"Why not?"
She looks at him. "Like you're the person to be asking me about making friends."
Sherlock shrugs. "Fair," he says, then stands and walks around the room.
"Oh no," she says, watching him. "You're not going to deduce my bedroom."
"And if I do?"
"Why not just let me tell you my secrets?" she asks. "If you want to know something, just ask and I might tell you."
"Okay," he agrees, sitting down on her bed. "Why don't you have any friends?"
She laughs. "I have you. I have John. I have Lane. I have Wyatt. I have—"
"You don't have any female friends," Sherlock says, taking her pen and twiddling it between his fingers. "That indicates—"
She gets up and moves to the bed next to him. "It indicates nothing. Females are just very difficult to get along with. Especially for a girl like me."
"Like you?" Sherlock flips the pen out of his hand.
Olive catches it before he can. "Boyish. Masculine. Scary."
Sherlock chuckles. "You're not scary."
"Thanks. You're not scary either."
Sherlock smiles. "So you're not scary. Why don't you have more friends?"
Olive laughs, but she's clearly annoyed. She rubs her forehead and asks, "What does it matter?"
Sherlock shrugs. "I don't know."
"You haven't got any friends besides John either."
"Yeah but I know why I don't have friends. Come on, what's wrong with you?"
"Nothing's wrong with me."
"There's gotta be something."
Olive sighs, exasperated. Her voice turns a bit more rough. "Look, the last friend I had…she…she went away, okay? Can you drop it now?"
Sherlock watches her. He senses that he should stop, but he doesn't. "What do you mean, went away? People leaving isn't any reason to shut everyone out, heck, my mum's—"
"My friend wasn't like your mum, Sherlock. She didn't leave."
"Well, what—"
Olive snaps. She throws her pen down and clenches her hand into a fist. "She killed herself, Sherlock. She didn't leave, she's dead."
Sherlock freezes. He's suddenly overcome with emotion, emotion that he doesn't quite know what to do with. Then, Olive wipes the tears forming in her eyes and he knows he needs to apologize.
"Olive, I'm—"
"Save it, Sherlock," she sniffles.
"No, I'm sorry, I didn't know, I shouldn't have—"
"It's fine."
"It's not."
"Sherlock!" she cries. "Just shut up, okay?"
He bites his lip and scoots closer to her. He reaches over for her hand, and she lets him take it.
"I'm so sorry."
She looks at him, heavy tears in her eyes. "I know."
When he's sad, John hugs him tight. He lifts his arms and wraps them around Olive, pulling her close and tucking her head under his chin.
Olive cries against his chest, and he just holds her tighter.
Eventually, they shift to lie back on the bed. He doesn't think about it being weird that he's holding her; he just wants to comfort her for making her so sad. He feels guilty for making her cry, for making her think of her friend. So he lies on his side and pulls her to him, her back to his front, his hand on her shoulder.
"Do you hold Watson like this?" she asks.
"Yes," he says. "When I upset him."
"How do you upset him?"
Sherlock shrugs. "I'm rude to Brady, or to his sister, or I sell his math notes."
Olive chuckles.
"It happened once. In first year."
"You're mad."
"So I've been told."
Olive wipes her eyes and sniffles again, so Sherlock rubs her arm soothingly.
"Do you want to talk about it?" he asks, something John often asks when he's sad.
Olive shrugs. "I wouldn't know where to start."
"What's her name?"
Olive turns around and scoots away from him so they're not touching anymore. He doesn't move, he just watches her.
"Uhm…" Olive wipes her eyes again. "Her name is…was…Anne. We met the summer before first year."
"How did you meet?"
"My dad arrested her," Olive says, chuckling a bit. "She uh…she stole a car. She was so nice, though. She wasn't, like, a delinquent. My dad introduced us because he wanted her to have a friend."
"What happened next?" Sherlock asks.
"We hit it off right away. We were inseparable. We were together every moment of every day, much like you and Watson. We didn't make out, though."
Sherlock laughs.
Olive smiles and wipes her eyes again. "She was depressed. She had been for a long time. She went through days, sometimes weeks of being completely unable to do anything more than sleep, and it…it ate her up."
Sherlock listens closely and doesn't say anything.
"I only remember her brother calling me in the middle of the night. Calling my dad, actually, and my dad told me. The next few weeks were a blur. About three months, actually."
"Why don't I remember this?"
"I don't know what you were doing a year ago, either."
He nods in acceptance.
"So that's…that's it. I dropped the friends we had, I couldn't bare to be near them without her. You're the first person I talked to at school in a year."
"Why did you continue talking to me?" he asks.
"Because you didn't treat me like the weird girl who didn't have any friends. You didn't even know. Everyone else in our class knows. And even if they don't...like, I don't know if Dane or Brady know and they both still treat me like that crazy girl who kicked Dane in the face in grade school."
"Well, Dane is a dick."
Olive laughs.
"I'm sorry that I didn't know," Sherlock says once she calms.
"I'm glad you didn't."
Sherlock nods again. "Does Lane know?"
"Yes," she says. "I told him before we started going out."
"What did he do?"
"He comforted me."
"Like this?"
"Not quite. He just held my hand and told me it was alright."
"Mmm."
"You don't have to hate him so much."
"Maybe I hate him a little bit less now."
"Why?"
"Because…people react differently to secrets. I'm glad he didn't do anything bad when you told him about this."
"That's how I knew he was good."
Sherlock shrugs. "Maybe he is."
Olive closes her eyes, so Sherlock just watches her for many silent minutes. He wonders how she holds together so strongly after something so tragic. He couldn't handle Vince's stupid comments day after day without breaking down; he couldn't handle seeing his mother kiss another man without having a panic attack and passing out in the street; he couldn't handle seeing John's dad without seeing red. How can Olive hold it together so well? He's never once seen her get upset at anything, and to know now that she went through something so awful is baffling to him.
The strength of everyone around him is astonishing.
"Plot twists," Olive says out of nowhere.
He wasn't really paying attention, so he asks, "What?"
"Plot twists, that's what Lane calls them. Everyone's got them. And when you get to it, you know you've gotten to the good part."
"How so?"
"Well," she says, "Darth Vader being Luke's father, biggest plot twist in cinematic history. That's the best part of any of the Star Wars films."
"I've never seen them."
She scowls, though her eyes remain closed. "You need to leave."
Sherlock laughs.
Olive smiles. "So, what's yours?"
Sherlock shrugs. "I guess I don't have one."
"You've got to. Everyone does."
"Then…it's that…" Sherlock pauses to think, then finally says, "It's that I'm gay."
Olive shakes her head. "First of all, that's not a good enough plot twist to count as a plot twist. Lots of people are gay. Second, you're not even gay, dude."
"Yes, I am. I like men."
"You don't like men, you like John."
"So? John's a man."
"John's the only man you've ever liked. You're just…John-sexual."
Sherlock laughs. "Maybe I am. Your dad is pretty hot."
Olive scowls and kicks his shin.
"Ow!"
She laughs.
"That hurt."
"Good. Don't ever say my dad is hot again."
"Fine, fine."
Olive takes a deep breath and snuggles deeper into her bed. "So, better plot twist?"
Sherlock shrugs. "I don't have one."
"Everyone has one."
Sherlock begins to talk fast now, blurting out, "John's dad went to jail for trying to seriously hurt his mother. John hit his dad with a hammer, but his dad took it and swiped John with it. John managed to get away and call the police."
"Sherlock-"
Sherlock takes a deep breath and continues, "Declan's dad, my uncle, is an alcoholic. Our grandfather was, his dad was, I presume his dad was, too. That's why my dad doesn't drink much, and when he does it…it's scary."
"Sher-"
He ignores her again. "Harvey's mum took off with Harvey's little sister. They live in Florida. Lily was—"
"Sherlock, Sherlock," Olive whispers.
He finally stops.
"Stop telling me other people's secrets."
"Why?"
"It's wrong."
"Is it?"
"Do you think John would like you telling me his entire life story?"
Sherlock shakes his head. "No, I guess not."
"So don't, okay?"
Sherlock nods.
"If you ever get to your own, I'm here for you."
Sherlock nods again. "Okay."
They're silent for a while longer. Sherlock thinks Olive has fallen asleep, so he leaves her alone and thinks silently to himself.
He wonders if he's got a plot twist. There's nothing he's ever kept hidden from anyone, if anything John knows all of his secrets. He's never had a thought he's needed to keep secret, he's never done anything that has to be kept to himself. There's nothing he can think of other than his open sexuality, which he's never, ever kept a secret.
Sherlock looks at Olive, and she looks so peaceful. He notices how pretty she looks while she's calm, rather than arguing with him about something.
Before he can think about it, he leans over and lightly kisses her.
Olive still doesn't open her eyes when he pulls away.
"And how was that?" she dryly asks.
"Yeah," he says, "I'm pretty gay."
Olive laughs and opens her eyes. "Still not your plot twist."
Sherlock laughs, too. "I'm telling you that I don't have one."
Olive sits up and wipes her eyes one last time. "On second thought, maybe I've just figured yours out."
Sherlock follows. "And?"
"It's that you suck at anatomy. Come on, at least two more pages before dinner."
Sherlock groans. "Unfair."
"Tough," she says, tossing a pen at him. "Get over here and do this work."
He pouts and moves to sit at the desk again. "John's nicer."
"Consider it a good cop, bad cop situation."
"John rewards me when I do well."
"I am not kissing you ever again, do you hear me? That wasn't even a good kiss."
"I didn't mean like that!" he cries. "And what do you mean it wasn't even a good kiss?"
She flips their books open to the pages they need. "With those lips, I'd have expected something a little bit less…hard."
"John says I'm a good kisser."
"Oh, and what's he got to compare it to? His pillow?"
"What, like you've got any more experience?"
"I've kissed more boys than you and Watson combined."
"So three."
"Still more than you, genius."
He scowls. "Whatever."
Olive cracks a smile and pokes his side. "You're sore because I don't like your kissing. Adorable, Holmes, really. Why don't you put this energy into this packet and you'll get it done a lot quicker?"
Sherlock just glares at her. "Fine," he mutters, grabbing a pen and scribbling his name at the top of the next page.
When they finally go downstairs, Olive's mother is excitedly setting the table while her father sits and reads the paper. They're so ordinary, unlike his own family. The times his mother would be there for dinner, his parents would be talking about business and stocks and would barely even notice him sitting there at the table. Mycroft would join in their conversations, knowing fully what to say and when to say it, but Sherlock would tune them out and most of the time wish John was there. If John was there, they were at least semi-normal.
"How was school?" John asks as they sit at the table. He puts his newspaper down and actually listens to Olive.
"It was fine," Olive says, then goes on to tell him about the quiz they had in math.
The entire dinner goes on this way. John and Jane ask Sherlock questions about himself, then he and John eventually get into a talk about crime.
Sherlock leaves a while after dinner because they all sit to watch television. Something like that would usually drive Sherlock mad, but he feels calm and perfectly fine while sitting there with Olive's family. He enjoys it very much, and he's actually sad when Clement calls to tell Sherlock he's on his way.
"I had a great time," Sherlock says when Olive walks him outside. "Thanks for helping with my homework."
"Thanks for being so…understanding. And nice."
"Am I not normally nice?"
Olive shrugs. "You have your moments."
Sherlock laughs. "I won't tell anyone your plot twist."
"Judging by the way you so eagerly told me everyone else's, I'm not sure I trust you."
"You can," Sherlock promises.
"Thanks."
"I'll see you Monday."
She reaches over and rubs his arm. "Have a good weekend with John."
"I will."
She drops her arm, then smiles at him once before going back inside.
Sherlock climbs into the car and Clement asks him how it was.
"It was nice," he says. "We finished a few more pages."
"Good!" Clement says, backing out of the driveway. "Keep on this pace, you'll be all set to go to New York."
"Yeah," Sherlock agrees, then silently rides home with his dad.
Sherlock calls John right before bed. He doesn't expect John to answer, because John said he was going to spend the night at Brady's, but John does.
He's laughing when he answers. "Hello?"
"Hey," Sherlock greets.
"Hey baby," John happily sighs. "How's it going?"
"Fine," Sherlock says. "I miss you."
"I miss you too, love. How was Olive's?"
"It was fun. How is Brady's?"
"Really fun," John says. "Brady's sister invited her friends over and someone brought vodka."
Sherlock frowns. "Oh."
John laughs at something in the background. "Yeah, it's a blast."
"Mmm."
"Brady's sister's friend is really nice."
"Is she now?"
"Yeah, she like…"
Sherlock's stomach drops. He really doesn't want to hear what she did to make her really nice.
"She told me to call you, like, a million times because she said I wouldn't shut up about you."
"Oh," he sighs, feeling a bit better.
"Because I miss you so much."
"I miss you too, John."
"You know what…" John says. "I'm going over there. I'm going to you."
"You're not, John. You're drunk."
"I'm not that drunk. I want you, baby, I want to see you."
"I know, John, but you can't come over here right now, okay?"
"You don't want to see me?"
"Of course I do, but it's late and you're drunk. Tomorrow, alright?"
"Okay," John agrees.
"I love you."
"I love you too, Sherlock, so fuckin' much."
"John, I have to tell you something," Sherlock says, remembering his short kiss with Olive.
"What is it?"
"I kissed Olive."
"Oh, really?"
Sherlock frowns. John sounds upset. "Yeah, John. I'm sorry."
"Was it like...like that time Harry's girlfriend kissed me? Remember?"
Sherlock's stomach knots. "Yeah, I...I guess it was like that."
"Okay," is all John says.
"Are you mad?"
"No," John says. "I'm relieved."
"Relieved?"
"Relieved that it finally happened and that you told me."
"What do you mean, that it finally happened?"
"It was inevitable, wasn't it?"
"No," Sherlock argues. "It wasn't inevitable."
"You love her. If Brady was gay, we'd probably have kissed by now."
Sherlock doesn't know what to say.
"Do you want to kiss her again?" John asks.
"Of course not. I love you."
"And I love you, baby. Can I go to you now?"
"No, John."
"Please? Sneak into your bed? Touch you inappropriately before we fall asleep together."
Sherlock laughs. "You can tomorrow."
"Okay," John finally agrees.
Sherlock says goodbye to John a few minutes later, after convincing him again not to go over. When John finally agrees, they say goodnight, then Sherlock gets into bed.
He gets one last text before he falls asleep.
From Olive Degas: My parents love you. Good job, dude, you passed.
This makes Sherlock happy, knowing that he helped Olive. He goes to sleep happy, if not missing John a lot, and he just looks forward to the weekend.