Like a Fairytale

Bumblebees are Mortifying

    "Watch it!" John called, the ghost of a smile on his face as the ball came flying back at Sherlock. It was a bit high, so, on instinct, Sherlock caught it, looking quite unsure about what to do next.
"Foul!" John called, now laughing, as Sherlock dropped the football hastily and kicked it back, as if it had never happened. They played for a little while until Sherlock suspected John couldn't take running back and forth to intercept the rouge balls, finally just giving up and calling it quits. They walked over to the tree, Sherlock feeling uncomfortably overheated in his trench coat but not really wanting to take it off since it made him feel very mysterious and cool. Well, fashion kills apparently.
"Alright, we've done our sports, what do you want to do?" John asked, taking a long drink from a water bottle he had brought, a couple of beads of sweat glistening on his hairline.
"Is the library out of the question?" Sherlock asked, knowing the answer already.
"Yes." John nodded.
"I don't get out at all, so I don't know what to tell you." Sherlock shrugged. "What do you suggest?"
"Well I don't know, there's not much to do around here, we can go see a movie, we can go shopping, both kind of stupid ideas, there's a new frozen yogurt shop open around 3rd street." John shrugged. Movies were definitely out, that would feel too much like a date, and Sherlock guessed at some point he'd want to put his arm around John or something, which would cause for much more awkwardness, and he didn't need anything, so shopping was also out. There didn't seem to be anything he liked to do that john would enjoy, the library was a lost cause and it's not like they could both stare at the ceiling in his bedroom for hours on end.
"We could always play a prank on Mycroft or something." Sherlock shrugged.
"Or Harry." John laughed. The idea of Mycroft tripping over a wire or something was less funny then terrifying though, he was sure he would get shot or something.
"That would get us killed." John decided.
"And we can't be seen with each other." Sherlock agreed. John crossed his muscular arms, which made Sherlock glow with embarrassment for noticing, and made sure to focus on his eyes once more. That didn't help much though, because the hazel made his throat seem to close up. John looked generally disappointed at the lack of entertainment, but both of them didn't want to leave yet. Sherlock racked his brain for something to do.
"Well, we can rent bikes or something." John recommended.
"Bikes?" Sherlock asked, never even thinking of that. Mycroft had taught him to ride a while ago, when he was five or something, but he hadn't ridden since.
"Ya, there's a shop somewhere around here, rent some, ride around the park maybe, or even on the roads." John suggested. "Can you ride?"
"I was taught, can't say yes until I actually try though." Sherlock muttered, kind of embarrassed at his lack of athletic skill.
"That sounds fun, I've got some money too." John pointed out.
"So do I." Sherlock agreed. He had made sure to pack some extra cash, in case another lunch date was sprung on him, he wanted to be prepared.
"Brilliant! I hope they're open on Sundays." John decided. They hid the balls the best they could in the fallen leaves at the crook of the tree, knowing no one would take them, but it was better to be safe than sorry apparently. The yoga prunes were still at it, so they could always keep watch or something. John and Sherlock walked through the park together to try to find this stand John had seen. He claimed it was somewhere near the pond, but that was still quite a walk. Sherlock's hands were in his pockets nervously, looking around to make sure no one would recognize them walking side by side. John, however, seemed a lot less apprehensive about being seen, he didn't look over his shoulder once, he just walked along with a skip in his step, trying his best to keep up with Sherlock's long stride.
"So, did you do anything else over the weekend?" John asked, craning his neck to see if Sherlock was actually listening.
"No, of course not." Sherlock shrugged.
"That's fine, laying low is fun too." John agreed.
"Did you?" Sherlock asked.
"Ya, Mary and I went out to that Italian place, Angelo's; she claims it's the most romantic place around." John shrugged. Sherlock's stomach churned with dislike at the mention of Mary, but it proved a point, John had no interest in him, he had a very enthusiastic girlfriend and wouldn't give her up so easily for the school freak.
"That's nice." Sherlock muttered, but his words sounded a lot forced than he would like.
"I don't know." John shrugged, keeping the same pace, but Sherlock felt himself almost stop walking.
"What do you mean you don't know?" Sherlock asked, his words flying anxiously out of his mouth in hope.
"I mean I don't know, about Mary and I." John admitted. Hope was an awful but wonderful feeling, why doesn't he know, what could possibly be wrong with the star couple in the school? Were they having problems or something?
"I thought you guys were completely in love." Sherlock pointed out.
"Well, I've been having doubts. I know she loves me, a lot, maybe too much, but I haven't been feeling all that drawn to her as I used to be." John admitted. Why, was there someone else, WHY? Sherlock's heart was beating almost uncontrollably, was there someone else in John's heart, maybe just maybe a tall, dark haired genius psychopath?
"Well, that's fine I suppose, high school relationships are rubbish anyway." Sherlock agreed, he felt strangely guilty though, but extremely happy. Why should he feel guilty, it wasn't his fault, and even if, by some miracle, it was, Mary had told him to hang himself, it's not like she was a saint herself.
"No, but I did like her, just like she likes me, I just don't know what's gotten into me." John admitted.
"You're not going to, to end it are you?" Sherlock asked. Why would John come to him with this information, wearing a tank top, he knew what happened, he knows Sherlock likes him, was this a big neon sign saying available?
"I don't know." John shrugged. Their conversation was cut short though, when they reached the bike rental place, a small wooden shack with all types of bikes chained to a rusty metal pole. There was a small man half asleep outside, his head nodding as he sat in a lawn chair under an open sign.
"Um, excuse me?" John asked. Sherlock noticed a two seated bike, and thought with amusement of him and John riding that together. The man's head shot up with a rough snore, squinting at the two of them with almost dislike, as if sleep came before costumers.
"You're um, open right?" John asked, as the man didn't respond.
"Ya we're open, can't you read?" the man growled, pulling a baseball cap onto his balding head and getting to his feet with the cracking of aching old bones. Sherlock kind of wanted to recommend yoga. The man opened up the door to get something, disappearing into the dingy shack and shutting the door behind him. John eyed Sherlock with confusion, as if trying to decide whether they should just leave or not, when the door opened again and the man reappeared with a clip board.
"Which ones?" he asked, glaring at them without clarifying what he meant.
"...both of us?" John muttered.
"I meant the bikes you deadbeat, which bikes!" The man exclaimed with an expression not far from an angry bull.
"Oh, ya, um, Sherlock, which ones?" John asked, looking at the rack. Sherlock joined him, happy for an excuse to look away from the old man, who's head looked like it was going to explode soon.
"I guess that one." Sherlock shrugged, pointing to a blue road bike hopefully, expecting the man to go off screaming for some reason, but he just made a little check mark on the clip board.
"And you?" he asked. John picked a black road bike as well, and the man brought out a large ring of keys from his pocket, unlocking the bikes and muttering things Sherlock definitely didn't want to hear.
"Do you need helmets?" he asked.
"No." John decided.
"Yes." Sherlock said at the exact same time, and they eyed each other as if the other was crazy.
"You're going to smash your head open." Sherlock pointed out.
"You're going to look like such a loser!" John debated, but there was a small smile on his face.
"Like my reputation can't sink any lower. I'll be falling all the time and my brain is my best quality, I'm wearing a helmet." Sherlock pointed out.
"Alright, one helmet, and if it has lady bugs on it that's another three bucks." John decided with a laugh, making Sherlock frown. The man disappeared into the shop and returned, to Sherlock's horror, with a neon yellow helmet with little bee stickers plastered to the outside.
"Should fit." He decided, throwing it to Sherlock, who caught it in disgust.
"You've got to be kidding me." he muttered.
"You wanted a helmet." John pointed out with a laugh.
"Alright, twenty three for you," the man decided, looking at John, "and twenty five for you." he looked at Sherlock this time. Sherlock paid the man, but couldn't help thinking how outrageously expensive it was.
"For the whole day?" John asked. Sherlock definitely didn't want to be parading around in a bee helmet for the whole day, but the old man nodded and John seemed satisfied.
"Alright, thank you." John decided, and the old man just glared for a moment before returning to his lawn chair, watching as the two of them rolled the bikes out of his view.
"He was so creepy." Sherlock decided as they rounded a corner on the pavement path.
"Tell me about it, but good thing we got the bikes." John agreed.
"And such a fashionable helmet." Sherlock decided, staring at the cartoon bees with disgust.
"It was worth every penny." John agreed. Sherlock didn't really want to wear the repulsive thing, but he jammed it onto his head. It was better to look stupid than to die apparently.
"Aw, you look so cute!" John exclaimed with a laugh. Sherlock frowned but blushed, it was a bit small, and the straps couldn't fit around his chin so he was pulling anxiously at them, just wanting to get this thing over with.
"You need help there?" John laughed.
"I'm fine." Sherlock snapped, not wanting John so close to his face again, they both saw what happened last time. But in reality he was not fine, the straps wouldn't click and he was feeling like quite an idiot. As a couple of joggers went by, looking at the two of them with amusement.
"Are you sure?" John asked, stepping forward a little bit in an attempt to help.
"I said I'm fine!" Sherlock assured, stepping back. John just laughed and shook his head, walking up to Sherlock, whose hands fell to his sides. John smiled, adjusting the strap to the helmet, but his hand brushed up against Sherlock's cheek, his face was so close, Sherlock's entire head was on fire with embarrassment, so close, every movement sent chills down his spine... his breath left him but he didn't want to gasp for air, so he was standing there, partially suffocating when there was plenty of air to go around, and John still didn't show an ounce of embarrassment. Finally the straps were loosened and John clipped the two together, securing the helmet on Sherlock's head and giving it a reassuring little shake to make sure it was fastened on well enough.
"Good?" he asked, looking right into Sherlock's eyes, looking very amused.
"Good." Sherlock agreed, and when John turned away he gasped in as much air as he could, chills still radiating through him as he kicked the kick stand in and sat on the bike seat, balancing easily between his two long legs. John, however, had to bounce from leg to leg in an attempt to stay upright, shifting every time since he was so short. Sherlock laughed a little bit, but considering he had a helmet made for a three year old on his head he shouldn't be too quick to judge.
"Ready?" John asked with a laugh.
"I guess so." Sherlock agreed.