Like a Fairytale

Unofficial Date #2

    John walked over to get the ball, which had rolled and was lying in the grass.
"I'm hopeless, I don't care, you can just say it." Sherlock assured, but John shook his head, dribbling it a couple of times and shooting from the big circle that stretched around the court, the three point line Sherlock guessed. The ball sank easily into the net, easy as that, he made it look so simple when in reality it was extremely difficult, as with everything else in Sherlock's sad little life.
"Okay, how about, before we shoot, we pass a little bit." John suggested.
"And how do we do that?" Sherlock asked, leaning a bit on one leg and pushing his bangs off of his forehead. This was all so pointless.
"Well, there's two different ways to pass, just thrusting it right to the others chest, like this." John pushed the ball right at Sherlock, making him catch it in surprise.
"Watch it!" Sherlock said, jumping.
"the other thing," John went on, ignoring Sherlock, "is a bounce pass, so you just have to bounce the ball so that it would hit me."
"Do I want it to hit you?" Sherlock asked.
"No, just make it able to catch." John clarified. Sherlock nodded, throwing the ball at the ground as hard as he could. The ball bounced but sailed over John's head, making him have to run after it and barely saved it from a lone biker.
"Oh god Sherlock, maybe you are hopeless." John sighed with a smile.
"Finally you accept it." Sherlock said with a smile. He didn't mind being called hopeless, it was the sad truth, but he didn't even think it was sad. People either excel in sports or academics, rarely both, and obviously you can guess which one Sherlock was gifted at. John bounced it back so that the ball came right up to Sherlock, and it was easier to catch as well, now that it wasn't being hurled at his chest.
"Throw it back." John demanded, holding his arms open to await the oncoming ball. Sherlock wished he could just run into his arms, but whatever. Sherlock threw the ball at John's extended arms, and to his shock John caught it easily.
"Whoa, you did it!" John exclaimed, as if that shocked him just as much as it did Sherlock.
"I guess I did, ya." Sherlock agreed, but not all that celebratory. He had managed to do what a three year old could, it wasn't all that great.
"No, that's great!" John assured, making Sherlock blush a little bit, but mumbled about how it wasn't all that great.
"Done for the day, please?" Sherlock said with a bit of a pouty face.
"Alright, done for the day." John agreed.
"You should tell the gym teacher I'm getting tutored." Sherlock pointed out.
"He'd just come with his whistle and scare the rubbish out of all of us." John sighed, twirling the ball once again on one finger. Was he showing off, like a turkey fluffing all of its feathers out? He bet John wouldn't much like being compared to a turkey, but whatever. Sherlock watched in silent awe as the ball twirled so easily on one finger, it didn't look like it was anywhere close to stopping and he didn't even touch it.
"How do you do that?" Sherlock asked.
"Let's stick to being able to bounce pass before you try this." John decided.
"Oh what, it's only for supreme level basketball masters?" Sherlock laughed.
"Yes."
"And you're a supreme level basketball master?" Sherlock pointed out.
"Course not, I just pretend." John admitted with a guilty smile, letting the ball fall back into his arms.
"Alright then." Sherlock decided, checking his watch. It was around 11:30 and his stomach was growling, even after all of those waffles.
"What's the time?" John asked, seeing Sherlock checking his watch.
"Eleven thirty." Sherlock pointed out.
"Time for lunch I suppose." John sighed.
"Yep. I bet Mrs. Hudson's just going to have sandwiches though."
"Housekeeper?"
"Ya."
"Mine, Mrs. Turner, always makes these awful turkey sandwiches for lunch, with hot peppers and mayo, everyone else loves them but I usually just feed them to the dogs." John groaned.
"Well I'm sorry to hear that." Sherlock muttered. John searched his pockets, pulling out a crumpled up twenty with a smile on his face.
"How about we just grab a bite to eat then?" he suggested. Immediately Sherlock's face glowed, was this a date, was John asking him on a date, what did he say, what would he eat, would he be expected to use the fork on the left and to hold his pinky up oh god...
"Yasure." Sherlock stumbled, but nodded to show he was on board with the idea.
"Great." John said with a smile. "You've got money on you right, because I'm broke."
"Was that a joke?"
"Which one?"
"Both." Sherlock added with a small smile.
"Yes." John agreed.
"I've got money." Sherlock assured, not quite knowing what they had just clarified.
"So, where do you go when you get hungry?" John asked, walking off the court while throwing the ball between both his hands.
"Well, uh, I don't know usually I just go home." Sherlock admitted with a shrug.
"Well I'm sure your parents wouldn't invite me in, even if I did pay, so how about that sandwich shop on the corner there?" John suggested.
"I've never been in there." Sherlock shrugged, knowing that he meant the one down the road, not far from his house actually. "I better hope Mycroft's not there though." He added.
"Yes, that would be quite unfortunate." John agreed. They arrived at their tree camp, Sherlock checking his pockets for spare money and grabbing his bag. Of course, being the kid he was, there was a crumpled fifty in his coat pocket and a ten in his pants pocket, plenty of money for a five course sandwich meal. John grabbed his own bag, struggling a little bit with both the football and basketball, but Sherlock thought if he volunteered to carry one it would only roll under a truck, so he stayed quiet. They trudged through the park, past the yoga prunes and narrowly missing a horse and buggy that seemed to have appeared out of nowhere. Sherlock walked swiftly behind John, matching his every step just in case he fell behind. This was something he was unable to classify, not a date per say, but just a friendship thing, but that was so much better than being John's living punching bag. It wasn't a long walk from the park to the restaurant, but every step felt like an entire mountain in John's presence. Sherlock simply couldn't mess this up, he was out of second chances, which John had so generously provided, and if he screwed something else up John would simply be another face in the crowd. A very attractive face no less, but no more than someone else looking down upon Sherlock with a scowl. This time it was Sherlock who had to look out for people, whether it be Mycroft, his parents, or even Mrs. Hudson lurking about, they simply couldn't be seen by anyone who knew their names. Not difficult of course, but there were always the entire school and the paparazzi and everyone that worked for either of their parents companies, now that he really thought there is a lot of people. John reached the door first and they both stood semi awkwardly outside of the large glass window, almost debating who should open the door for who, the annual battle of gentlemen. John grabbed the handle in the end, making Sherlock start blushing, immediately feeling bad for not going for it, but they would've been here all day so he supposed it was a good thing John was brave.
"You go ahead." John assured, holding it open.
"Thanks." Sherlock muttered, not wanting to look at him for fear he would have to chase his fleeing heart down the street. The door shut behind them with a small ring of a bell, announcing their arrival to the man behind the counter. He looked almost as bored as the man a Mrs. Moo's, but this one was a lot younger and seemed like he could be doing something a lot better with his life.
"Welcome to Marie Family Sandwich Shop, I'm Dave," he gestured to his nametag, "may I take your order?" The poor boy looked like he was suffering worse than Sherlock during pep rallies. Sherlock looked at the menu board, and it sort of amused him that John had to crane his neck to see.
"I'll have the olive garden wrap, no mayo." Sherlock decided, leaning slightly on the counter with his elbows.
"Roast beef club." John decided, digging out his money as well.
"Separate bills." Sherlock added as he picked out an iced tea from the cooler and a bag of Sun Chips. John got a Coke and Cheetos, placing them on the counter as well and smiling at the tortured cashier.
"Your total is 9.28$." he read monotonously from the register.
"Which one?" John asked.
"Tall one." he clarified.
"That must be you John." Sherlock said with a laugh, but handed the cashier the ten as he said it. John stomped hard on Sherlock's foot under the counter, but to the cashier he just saw an annoyed expression and sudden pain on Sherlock's face, so he looked back and forth between them with a very confused expression, pausing as he dug out the change.
"Thanks." Sherlock said, holding out his hand and excepting the numerous dimes and pennies.
"And for you it'll be 10.15$." the man said, gesturing to John, who handed him fifteen dollars. It's kind of sad when the smallest bill you've got is a five. When they got their change they took their drinks and chips over to a seat in the back corner, discrete enough so that if someone walked in they'd probably just over look them. It was one of those tall tables with the large stools, so they hopped up on them and waited for their sandwiches to be made.
"If you stand up on your seat you might be normal height." Sherlock pointed out with a laugh.
"When did this go from me making fun of you to you making fun of me? Not fair." John debated, crossing his arms but smiling all the same.
"Oh, haven't the faintest, it's just hard to resist really." Sherlock shrugged, which didn't help in John's mood.
"Ya well, now you know how we all feel." John grumbled.
"Oh, so it was enjoyable beating me up?" Sherlock asked, trying to check his reflection in his plastic iced tea jug to see if he still had the bruise from when John punched him after the game.
"Well of course, we had to use our manliness somewhere, and it's not like you were going to fight back." John shrugged, as if that made it perfectly okay to ruin someone's entire life.
"I don't have any visible bruises on my face, but my chest is so bruised from Anderson's bloody kicking that it looks like I have a black and blue shirt on." Sherlock pointed out. Want to see? John opened his mouth to say something but in that time a loud bell rang out and a worker set the two sandwiches on the counter for them to pick up. Sherlock started to slide out of his seat but John held him back.
"I've got them." He assured, hopping down from the chair (his feet couldn't reach the ground) and going to get the sandwiches. When he got back he slid one over to Sherlock's side of the table and got back into his seat, staring at his own sandwich hungrily. 

"Looks awesome." He decided, trying to decide which half to bite into first. Sherlock eyed his sandwich cautiously and poking one of the rolls open with his fork to make sure there wasn't something hidden in the mix of veggies and lettuce. When it passed his expectation he rolled the wrap back up and took a bite, finding that it was extremely good.
"Are you a vegetarian?" John asked curiously between bites of his own sandwich.
"No." Sherlock said simply.
"You just don't like meat then?" John asked.
"No, I was just kind of in the mood for a salad sandwich, anything wrong with that?" Sherlock asked with confusion.
"No, just a conversation starter I suppose." John shrugged. Sherlock squinted suspiciously but nodded in the end, taking another bite of his sandwich and hopefully ending that conversation. Once or twice he considered being a vegetarian just to make it more difficult on his family, but in the end he didn't want to inconvenience Mrs. Hudson, who was still his favorite member of the family to date. By the time he was only half way through his own lunch John's sandwich was merely memory and he was moving onto his chips, eating them slowly and staring at a spot in space. Sherlock was okay with this anyway, it made it easier to steal glances now and then and it was perfect for someone who despised conversations. Finally he was onto his chips as well, wrapping up the foil from around the sandwich into a neat little ball.
"So, break tomorrow, and then back on again Monday?" Sherlock suggested.
"Who said I wanted a break tomorrow?" John asked with a small frown.
"I did..." Sherlock pointed out, looking around to try to see who else could've said it.
"Well I don't, it may surprise you but I enjoy this math cult we've got going." John pointed out. Sherlock took that as a blow to the head, a good one though.
"Well, ya, it surprises me." he muttered. Did this mean John enjoyed hanging out with him? Was that even possible?
"Well I've got more time now, Mom said if I was doing both football and tutoring that I had to quit my job, so now I'm really broke." John admitted.
"You didn't need that money anyway." Sherlock shrugged.
"Ya well, I was about to get fired anyway, apparently it was against employee conduct to come to work muddy and sweaty but I guess that's their fault." John shrugged, rolling their eyes.
"How on Earth is that their fault?" Sherlock asked with a laugh.
"I don't know, not offering an employee shower?" John suggested.
"You really are one to point fingers." Sherlock decided.
"But really, Sunday, want to meet up or anything, we don't even have to do math, but I assume you're as lonely as me in your manor as well." John pointed out.
"Well, I've got Redbeard." Sherlock shrugged.
"You're lucky then, the most my dogs do is chew up my shoes, they're terrified of me for some reason." John groaned.
"You are quite scary, I don't know..." Sherlock pointed out.
"Well it's not like I've beaten them up in an alley before." John groaned.
"I prefer the term violent anger management in a lesser traveled road." Sherlock pointed out.
"Why?"
"It doesn't sound nearly as bad."
"And who do you have to tell?" John asked.
"Myself I guess." Sherlock shrugged.
"That's kind of sad." John decided.
"No it's not, alone is what I have." Sherlock shrugged. "Alone protects me."
"That's even sadder!" John debated, but Sherlock just shrugged. It was true, the only person he's ever wanted to talk to had been John, and here they were, so he was pretty happy about that.
"I'm quite happy actually." Sherlock shrugged.
"Well that's good, but if I were in your shoes I'd probably start crying." John admitted.
"You cry?" Sherlock asked, as if this were some great mystery.
"Of course I cry, the entire football team was in tears when we lost leagues." John pointed out.
"Now Anderson crying would be something I'd like to see. And record. And maybe post it on YouTube." Sherlock decided.
"Oh he'd torture you for that." John warned.
"Well I don't have an opportunity do I?" Sherlock pointed out, pretending to be sad about that, as if it ruined his evening plans.
"Thankfully not, but he'd probably hang you from the flagpole."
"That doesn't sound like fun." Sherlock guessed.
"No, it wouldn't be fun, and it would be even harder getting you down." John agreed. Sherlock tried to comprehend that John had just said he'd be the one to get him down.
"Just to be clear, in school, this isn't happening right? We still hate each other?" Sherlock asked.
"Unfortunately yes." John agreed. Unfortunately?
"So when we see each other you call me freak and beat me up and I insult your sport and family." Sherlock clarified.
"Yep." John said with a small smile, as if this were the funniest thing ever.
"Okay." Sherlock sighed. He stared at his pile of garbage stacked on the little plastic tray and frowned slightly, he wanted to show off his new friend to the entire school, not duck around corners and still hate each other in public. John checked his watch nervously, and from where Sherlock sat he could see it was now around twelve thirty. He didn't know what his parent's reactions would be if he came home later than usual, but he wasn't going to break up this lovely day with John. It was like all of his wild childhood dreams had come true, he was eating lunch with John, talking with him, laughing like they were actual friends, this came before family rules and deadlines, this was life and his future.