Sherlock woke with three very important things on his mind.
First, vodka is terrible.
Second, he's very upset with Olive and Paris.
Third, John is very warm and very naked.
The last grabs his attention the easiest. John hasn't been naked in his bed in a very long time. And now Sherlock actually feels something about it. He isn't sure what he wants to do, but whatever it is, he knows he doesn't want to wake John just yet. Instead, Sherlock props himself up on one elbow to observe the sleeping boy next to him.
John's skin is flushed, no doubt from the heat they share. John always gets too hot sleeping with Sherlock. His body is slightly damp from sweat; his fringe is sticking to his forehead. He'd kicked the blankets off the night before, but he's clutching the cool sheet tightly against his chest. That and the light snores that are coming from his slightly parted lips make him look so small and cute that Sherlock wants to snuggle John in his arms and hide him for safekeeping.
Which is a funny thing because Sherlock is the one who needs safe keeping now. Months ago, John needed to be safe from his dad; now Sherlock needs safe keeping from his own paranoid brain.
And then, staring at John, Sherlock's brain alerts him of a very important conversation that was stored last night.
John will say yes if I ask him to marry me.
But now? He asks himself. When they're about to go to uni? And Sherlock doesn't even know what their plans are. What if John still wants to go into the army? They haven't even talked about their exam results yet. What if John doesn't get into the same school as Sherlock? His mind races with all of these unanswered questions.
He doesn't even notice John stirring awake until a wet kiss is pressed against his cheek.
"What are you thinking about so intently?" John asks, his voice thick from sleep.
Sherlock takes a deep breath. "Just…nothing."
John sits up with a groan. "That face doesn't look like nothing."
Sherlock follows him up. "I'm just worried about a few things."
"Like?"
Where to start? Sherlock asks himself. He decides to leave out the bit about them possibly getting married. "I'm wondering what we're going to do about uni."
"What do you mean?"
"Are we going to go together?"
"Wow, uhm…" John sighs. "I didn't know you'd want to."
"Of course I'd want to!" Sherlock shouts. "How could you think-"
"I don't know, Sherlock. When you came back, we weren't talking and I thought we were through. I…. kind of…made plans."
"You what?!"
"Well, I mean… I didn't do anything about the plan, I just made it."
Sherlock stares at him. John thinks Sherlock will be mad. He is afraid of Sherlock's reaction. It isn't hard for Sherlock to figure out what the plan is.
"You're planning to enlist, aren't you?"
John looks ashamed. "Well, I didn't do as well on my tests as I thought I would. I just figured this would be easier."
"No. Absolutely not. That's not easier, not at all."
"Sher –"
"No…"
John rubs his eyes. "Look, babe, this conversation would be easier to have without a pounding headache and all your bits staring at me."
Sherlock glances down between his own naked lap and John's. This isn't how he intended the morning to start. But his head is starting to throb, and not just because of this conversation.
John suddenly stands from the bed. "Come on," he says, "Let's take a shower."
Sherlock follows him up, taking his hand and letting John lead him to the bathroom.
After they emerge from their shower and find Clement chugging coffee and heading out of the house, Sherlock is reminded that Clement and Mycroft are keeping something from him. Since they're dressed already, Sherlock waits approximately three seconds after Clement leaves before he pulls John off his chair and races for the door.
"Sherlock!" John yells. "What the-"
"I need to know what they're hiding from me."
"How do you know your dad is even meeting Mycroft?"
A cab pulls up and Sherlock climbs in. "Follow that green car," he demands. Then, when the cabbie looks skeptical, he adds, "It's my dad."
Their cab travels unnoticed by Clement through the city. Apart from knowing geographically where they are, Sherlock has no idea why this place is significant. All of the homes are very expensive looking. Sherlock likes the look of the neighborhood, but he's still confused.
John pats his arm. "Look."
Sherlock catches his dad entering the big house, and both boys duck in the backseat of the cab.
"Is…is my dad… having an affair?"
"Well, technically it's not an affair if he's not married anymore."
Sherlock still frowns. His dad seeing someone and not telling him? But what does that have to do with Mycroft?
Less than a second later, Sherlock notices a familiar car pull up behind Clement's. It's Mycroft. Clement exits the house and meets Mycroft outside. They hug quickly, then pullback to talk.
"I wish I knew what they're saying," Sherlock says.
From the front seat, the cabbie mutters, "Where is…Lestrade?"
John and Sherlock stare at him questioningly.
"Yeah, I can read lips."
Sherlock asks the cabbie to go on.
"Let's see… the realtor will be here soon. The one in the suit purchased a fancy pen for this occasion. The older guy is laughing at him."
"So…"
"Hang on," the cabbie says, "He asks if the suit guy is ready to buy his first house."
Sherlock falls back against the seat. "Mycroft is moving."
John rubs his shoulder. "I'm sorry, love."
Sherlock frowns deeply. He asks the cabbie to take them home.
Sherlock asks John to leave him alone when they get home, so John reluctantly goes to his own home. Alone, Sherlock thinks about all of the ridiculous, unwanted change. John possibly going into the army, Olive breaking up with Lane (yes, he's never really liked Lane, but he's gotten so used to them together that he can't possibly handle them being apart), and now Mycroft wants to leave him.
And this is all his fault. First he was kidnapped, then when he returned, he was terrible to John. Of course John wants to leave him. Sherlock can't blame John for wanting out. That's probably why Mycroft wants to move, too. Thinking about it, Sherlock realizes he's been awful to Mycroft, as well. And Lestrade, and everyone else.
On top of all that, he introduced Olive to Paris. He knew Olive liked the boy the first time they met, but Sherlock chose to ignore it.
Thinking gets to be too much. He needs peace and quiet and privacy to break down, so he quietly slips into his closet and slides to the floor. Then, he takes a long, deep breath before tears roll slowly down his cheeks. In the quiet darkness, he welcomes the anxious fear in hopes that it will swallow him whole.