Like a Fairytale

The Pampered Prince

He still had his training clothes on, his cleats and high socks covered in mud and his hair sticking to his forehead. Sherlock immediately looked away, feeling himself blushing even though he knew he really shouldn't be. But as he was walking to throw out his cup and napkin John came up to him, elbowing him hard enough so he was forced to turn and face him.
"You look wet." Sherlock observed, noticing a drop of rainwater making its way down his cheek. He very much appreciated how attractive this looked.
"Where do you want to study tomorrow?" John sighed, looking around as if humiliated to be seen talking to the Freak.
"Well, I don't know, whatever is best I suppose." Sherlock shrugged.
"If you come to my house, my dad will shoot you."
"And if you come to mine my entire family will tear your arms and legs off, so let's avoid both of those locations." Sherlock decided, remembering the not so friendly family feud they had.
"How about here, right after practice?" John asked, looking around once more.
"That's, that's fine ya." Sherlock agreed, his voice cracking for some reason, probably because the fact he was talking freely to John, and they were planning to spend actual time together.
"Until then nothing's different, you're still a Freak, just not one I can beat up." John grumbled.
"Of course." Sherlock agreed. John nodded finally, walking away to the back as quickly as he could, obviously having to clean up somehow before he would be out serving the customers. "See you tomorrow." Sherlock muttered, going back to his table only to retrieve his bag, and walking back out with a little skip in his step.

                "Anything happen at school today honey?" Mrs. Holmes asked over their dinner of beef stew, as prepared by Mrs. Hudson this morning. Sherlock poked at his stew with his spoon, too excited and nervous to eat much.
"Not really." He shrugged, a complete lie, but he knew that if they found out he was working with John they'd start complaining, and this was the only chance he had to spend time with him, one on one. Mycroft gave him a suspicious glare, but went back to his food before Sherlock could protest.
"Well the stocks sunk a little bit, nothing to worry about of course." Mr. Holmes cut in, ending that once and for all. Sherlock was so much in a daze he almost spilled his milk a couple of times and ran into the wall while venturing back to his room, but they didn't pay him much attention so he just ran up the steps three at a time, Redbeard at his heels, and shutting the door to his bedroom with a snap. He flopped on his bed, slamming his smiling face down into the pillows. He didn't know what to think or how he should approach this or what he should do and his mind was just a complete jumble of thoughts and emotions and uuuggghhh... It took Sherlock a little while to realize he was suffocating himself in the mess of pillows, so he twirled over and stared up into the ceiling.
"The most amazing thing happened today Redbeard." He muttered, once again very softly. Redbeard made a little grunt, picking up his red head and looking at Sherlock. This time he was on the floor since Sherlock was sprawled across the bed, leaving him no room.
"John is flunking out in math, and the teacher wants me to tutor him. Me and John Watson, alone, studying, it will be brilliant I tell you, brilliant!" Sherlock exclaimed, flopping over on his bed to hang down over the end of the bed, balancing himself so that he could scratch Redbeard's ears. If Redbeard was able to smile he would be now, his pink tongue lolling out of his mouth and his black eyes twinkling.
"But what should I wear?" Sherlock asked, pausing what he was doing to stare at the closet. This was a big event, this was John, he had to look his very, very best, but can't look like he was trying. Sherlock stumbled over himself, flopping onto the floor face first into the dog hair covered rug, but pulling himself immediately to his feet and opening the closet. All the papers, even though they were taped very firmly, fluttered on the door, where ink and lead John smiled up at him from the many newspaper articles and drawings. It was sort of creepy, he was very aware, and God forbid any of his parents opened the door... But Sherlock didn't have to worry about that, he turned on the light hastily and tore through the many hangars of clothes. They were, of course, mostly the same, slacks, button down shirts, and jackets. Obviously he couldn't show up in a suit, so that crossed some stuff out, but he picked out his best pair of each, and his favorite purple shirt, making sure they were properly ironed and free of dog hair. After the wardrobe scare the sun was sinking below the horizon, making the room dark, so he turned on one of the bedside lamps and started to rearrange his math notes. They were now all in order from sections, the papers in the pockets hole punched and in order and the ripped holes repaired so that nothing was sticking out of the top or sides. Sherlock then went over most of the harder sections, now like he needed to of course, but just to make sure he didn't look stupid in front of John. Finally the clock struck ten, making the large Grandfather clock in the living room start dinging loudly. Sherlock packed up his notes neatly in his backpack, pushing Redbeard over and switching off the lamp, this was going to be a great day, this was going to absolutely brilliant...