John decides it's best to tell his mother about his plan before his big mouth sister can. The day after his meeting with Mrs. Steele, he asks his mother if they can go to dinner together, just the two of them. Not that Harry would go, she already left a message on John's phone saying she won't mourn if he dies. It hurts John, but not enough to care to change his plans.
"So, why did you want to come to dinner, son?" Dawn asks as they sit.
"I just wanted to spend time with you."
"And we couldn't have spent time together at home?"
"Well…" John doesn't want to say he wanted to get away from Harry, so instead he says, "I thought this would be nice."
Dawn smiles at him across the table.
They order their food and get their drinks, then John starts to feel sick in the pit of his stomach. He knows he needs to tell her, and now is as good a time as ever.
"Mum, I…I made a decision about uni."
She looks at him with interest. "You did? That's great. What did you decide?"
"Well, I… you know I've wanted to be a doctor for some time. So I decided to do med school."
"Aw!" Dawn cries. "That's wonderful! I'm so proud of you, John!"
John frowns. "That's not all."
Dawn looks at him, confused.
"I, uh, I've always wanted to be a soldier, Mum, and—"
"No."
John looks at her. "Mum—"
"No John, I say no."
"You can't say no, it's my decision."
"I am your mother and I say no!" She brushes her hair out of her eyes and sighs, flustered. "You can't go to war, John!"
"Mum, by the time I finish med school, who knows where the war will be? And when I'm a doctor, I doubt I'll even see combat. But I want this, Mum."
"What does Sherlock think, then?"
"I haven't told him."
"He'll say no, too."
"I know."
Dawn shakes her head. "I don't know why you want to be your father."
John is instantly angered by her words. "I don't want to be him!" he yells, slamming his fist on tome table. "I want to be the best me I can be! And if that means the military, then I want it. That's what I want to do."
"You don't owe it to anybody to do it, John."
"You're right, I don't. It's for me."
"Fine, John. We'll convince you otherwise."
John shakes his head. "I won't be changing my mind."
The waiter arrives at that moment with their food.
"We'll see," Dawn says, stabbing at her food.
John doesn't feel like eating anymore, but he tries a little bit.
After dinner, Dawn has to go in to work for a few hours so John goes to Sherlock's. He's still upset about his talk with his mother, but he hopes Sherlock won't notice.
Of course, that's too much to ask for.
"What's wrong with you?" Sherlock asks as soon as John kisses him.
John flops down on his bed. "Nothing."
Sherlock turns in his desk chair to face John. "You're clearly upset and I wish to know why."
"Why?"
"Why, what?"
John slowly sits up. "Why do you wish to know?"
"I want to help."
John scrubs a hand over his face. "I don't want to talk about it." He knows he should tell Sherlock, but John doesn't want to yet.
"Is it… did your mother… did she—"
"She didn't do anything," John snaps.
"Harry—"
"Nope," John sighs.
"It's something to do with what happened yesterday."
John doesn't say anything and he tries very hard not to move, not even his eyes, for that would surely give something away.
Sherlock swallows roughly and turns back to his laptop. "So you're going to join the military."
John groans. "That's not… you don't understand."
"What don't I understand?" Sherlock asks, not committed to the question.
"That's not it, Sherlock. I'm going to become a doctor, then I'm going to join. Alright? You'll have me here for, what? Eight more years before I join?"
Sherlock laughs maniacally. "So you're saying I get to enjoy you in one piece for eight more years. I get a solid timeline?"
John groans in annoyance. "Why is everyone already planning my funeral? What if I work at a base hospital? Or a military hospital here? Or I—"
"Oh please John, you won't be satisfied with just that. You want to see action, the fighting. You won't settle for anything less."
John knows that's true, of course. He does want to see combat. But he's not going to admit to that.
"Look," John says. "Can we just… just forget it for now, please?"
"Sure. We'll talk about it in seven years."
John groans. "Whatever," he says, standing.
"Where are you going?"
"I don't know!" John yells. "I don't feel like I'm welcome anywhere right now! You're mad at me, my mum's mad at me, my sister… she's way more than mad—"
"That's because we're scared!" Sherlock yells. "We're scared out of our fucking minds, John! We don't know what is waiting for you!"
John rubs his eyes. "I don't need everyone to be mad at me. I need everyone to support me. Why is that so hard?"
"Because we're scared, okay? I want to support you because I love you, but as long as you're in danger, I'm going to be upset."
John takes two steps and pulls Sherlock out of his seat, then he wraps his arms tight around the taller boy.
"I love you so much," John says. "This is just what I want."
Sherlock hugs him back. "I love you."
John turns his face into the crook of Sherlock's neck and kisses his skin there. "I'm not leaving you. I'm not going to die on you. I promise."
Sherlock kisses his head. "We'll discuss this in seven years."
John chuckles. "Okay."
Sherlock rubs his back. "John?"
"Mm?"
"All of this is very emotional for me. Can we get some ice cream?"
John laughs. "Sure, love. Let's go."
They part and give each other a small smile before leaning in for a kiss. They leave the room, but there's tension lingering between them. John hopes it won't last long, but Sherlock is not likely to forget.