Epilogue: Two Years Later
The idea of university has never been Sherlock's cup of tea.
First of all, having to sit through classes where he knows more than the professor is so tedious. Homework is the worst, and it's always been the worst but he used to be able to talk his way out of it. Now they take the stuff seriously.
Second, there are so many more people. And they all try to talk to him. They try to involve him in group projects or class discussions, and it's so hard to not share their life stories with classmates. He hates talking to them.
Third, he's not exactly the happiest with this university. He wanted to go somewhere else. Anywhere else.
Sherlock shifts uncomfortably on the bench he's occupying. There's a couple sitting next to him, snogging each other's faces off. It's disgusting, especially when he can tell the girl is seeing someone else.
He sips his coffee and checks his watch. He was told to be here fifteen minutes ago, and since he forgot to charge his phone the night before, he can't leave or else there'd be a huge thing.
At the twenty minute mark, he's about to leave anyway. These people are getting a bit too handsy. He stands and dusts snow off his coat, then he looks up and sees the sun.
Not the sun. But the essence of the sun in John Watson's smile. It's warm and bright and beautiful and essential to life. Sherlock smiles back.
"Sorry I'm late," John says as he approaches.
Sherlock shrugs. He's been waiting and his nose is frozen, but it's better not to start a thing.
John glances past Sherlock to the couple on the bench. "Make friends?"
"Hmm?" Sherlock looks back at them. "Oh, yes. This lovely young lady was telling me about how her boyfriend's on the rugby team."
The boy breaks away suddenly, furious looking, and Sherlock hooks his arms in John's to take off before they can hear the argument.
"He's not on the rugby team, is he?" John asks.
"No, but her other boyfriend is."
John laughs. "Terrible."
Sherlock smirks.
After walking for five minutes, John stops and turns towards Sherlock.
"Do you know how fetching you look in the snow?" he asks.
Sherlock looks at him and is confused. "Uh—"
"Your cheeks are pink, your black hair looks beautiful against the white, your eyes are more blue, you're just… gorgeous."
Sherlock's cheeks redden more, and not from the cold.
John grabs the lapels of his coat and pulls him in for a long, slow kiss. Sherlock's lips emerge as red as his cold cheeks.
"Sorry," John mutters. "Had to."
"No it's," Sherlock licks his lips. "It's fine."
John smiles and checks his watch. "Come on, we're already late."
Sherlock lets John pull him through campus towards the main road to get a cab.
Mycroft and Greg are at the restaurant when they arrive. They greet John and Sherlock quietly, and Sherlock can immediately tell something is wrong.
"Who died?" he asks as he sits.
Mycroft sighs. "Nobody."
"Then what's with the seriousness?"
Greg glances at Mycroft. This is something to do with the both of them; all four of them.
John clears his throat and reaches for the menu. "Who's hungry?" he asks. Clearly he has no idea that something is wrong.
"Listen boys," Greg starts.
"Here it goes," Sherlock mutters. "Before our meal, must be important."
John's eyes widen. "Did someone really die?"
"No, John. Nobody died."
Sherlock studies his brother and Lestrade. Mycroft is trying to look calm, but he's failing. Lestrade looks nervous. He's worried Sherlock and John are going to be upset. And Mycroft has his briefcase. He has something to present to Sherlock and John.
"Listen," Mycroft says. "We just—"
"He just," Lestrade interjects.
"We both believe it's time you two found your own flat."
John looks shocked. Sherlock, of course, saw this coming from a mile away.
"Did we… do something wrong?" John asks.
"No!" Lestrade cries. "No, Mycroft just thinks that now that you're twenty, you can be on your own."
"Does Dad know about this?" Sherlock asks Mycroft.
"To my surprise, he is quite supportive of this idea."
John rubs his eyes. "I…I mean… you two have been quite generous to allow us to live rent free this whole time."
Mycroft lifts his eyebrows at Sherlock. Sherlock practically reads his mind; it's a reminder that the inheritance left to him from his mother's mother is awarded to him on his 20th birthday, which is in one month.
He's never told John, and he has no problem with getting a flat for them with part of his money, but he'd rather not have the conversation about it in front of his brother.
Sherlock stands and buttons his suit jacket. "John, join me outside for a moment?"
John confusedly stands and follows.
Sherlock paces on the pavement outside. John watches, arms crossed and shivering. Sherlock doesn't say anything until John clears his throat.
"There's something I haven't told you, John."
"Oh god. What?"
"In a month, I'll be rewarded my first inheritance."
"Your…first?"
Sherlock waves a hand; that's not the important part. "It's a substantially sum, John. I can… that is, I am willing to move us from my brother's home."
"No," John mutters. "No, I can't let you—"
"What other choice do we have John? We can't afford a flat where we need to be otherwise."
"Sherlock, you know I've never felt right using your money."
Sherlock finally stops to look at John. "And you know I've never been anything less than happy to share my money with you. Remember when we were eight and you wanted that… that one toy, I can't remember what it was. And I got it for you."
John sighs. "A remote control car is so different from a flat, Sherlock."
"This isn't really negotiable, John. We have to move, but we're lucky that I have the money to make that possible."
John rubs his face. "I don't know, love."
"What other option is there?"
John looks Sherlock in the eye. "I don't want you to resent me for this. I don't want you to think I'm living off of you, or something."
"John, I know you loved me before you realized I have money."
"I realized you have money when we were, like, ten."
"And? You loved me."
John starts to laugh. "Shut up, no I didn't."
Sherlock grows a small smile.
"And one more thing," John says as Sherlock steps close to him.
"Hmm?" Sherlock asks, leaning in to kiss John's cheek.
"I get to help choose the flat."
Sherlock's lips graze his jaw, heading for John's lips. "I believe my know-it-all brother has already found a place."
John backs away quickly. "What?!"
"Why do you think he has his briefcase?"
John rolls his eyes.
"Don't worry. We can make the final decision. Together."
John nods. "Okay. Are we… do you think we're ready to live together?"
"We do live together."
"Alone," John clarifies.
Sherlock shrugs. "It'll be nice to have sex whenever we want."
John laughs. His cheeks turn red because the couple entering the restaurant stare at them.
Sherlock smiles. "Let's go back in. Don't worry, okay?"
John nods. "I love you."
Sherlock kisses him quickly. "I love you, too."