Like a Fairytale

Tour De Losers

    John pushed off, gliding easily down the road. Thankfully when Sherlock started peddling he found it was extremely simple, since he had been taught before it wasn't all that hard, obviously it was something you never forget how to do. John was far ahead of him of course, weaving through packs of joggers and people walking their dogs, so that Sherlock looked like an idiot riding all alone in such a stupid helmet.
"John, wait up!" he called, putting on more speed but having to slow as a large pack of joggers passed. He definitely didn't want to hit anyone, and wasn't as in control as he'd like to be. John slowed down, waiting for Sherlock to catch up, and was laughing a little bit.
"I was right; you do look like a major loser." John decided.
"Oh shut up, this is your fault."
"No it's not, you wanted one!" John defended, starting up again. Now they had more room to ride around, so they were riding side by side, their peddling in sync.
"You were the one that made him give me a bee one!" Sherlock defended.
"Oh come on, who doesn't like bees? They pollutenate or something." John pointed out.
"Pollenate?" Sherlock asked with a laugh.
"Ya, that." John agreed.
"You are completely hopeless." Sherlock decided.
"I am not!" John defended. Sherlock just glared at him sideways, and John laughed slightly. "Alright, maybe at some things." John admitted.
"Well, that's what I'm here for." Sherlock pointed out.
"On every other day yes." John agreed. "We're on break remember?"
"Oh ya, sorry." Sherlock agreed, totally forgetting that they didn't do math. This entire get away was because John wanted to spend actual time with him, like friends. And now that he wasn't all that interested in Mary anymore, there actually could be more, if Sherlock was stupid enough to try. They rode a couple of loops around the trail, Sherlock always in the back of course, but by the end of the trip he was really starting to get the hang of it all. They even went through the grass a couple of times, which didn't work very well considering they were road bikes, but it was necessary to not hit the large group of tourists swarming around a little chipmunk. It was like they've never seen wildlife before. At one o'clock both John and Sherlock were tired and hungry, and Sherlock had a great deal of sweat collecting under the childish helmet. So they decided to ride back to the little man's shop, who was still asleep, the racks still as full as they had left them. They decided not to wake him for fear of their lives, so they left the bikes parked right next to the door, the helmet hanging from the door handle as a reminder they had returned.
"So, lunch?" John asked.
"I guess so." Sherlock agreed, wiping the mop of black curls off of his forehead. He still had his trench coat on, very much overheating, but he didn't really want to take it off because he'd have nowhere to put it.
"Where do you want to go?" John asked.
"Nowhere special, that stupid bike man bled me dry, I saw a hot dog vender near the pond." Sherlock pointed out. He searched his pockets, only sixteen dollars left, which, for him, was almost in the negatives.
"Sounds good, it's always nice to have some cheap food once in a while, mix it up a bit." John agreed, sounding genuinely excited as they made their way to the pond. As they approached Sherlock couldn't help but think of the dream he had about this very pond, where they were on the docks, about to kiss. What a beautiful dream it had been, and to think now he was closer than ever to make it a reality. Technically it had been, partially, he had the pleasure of kissing John once, but then again it was classified under 'weird' and 'disgusting', so of course he paid the price. There was a small line of people outside the cart, but it was moving fast, so it gave them enough time to figure out what they wanted before they were in the spotlight. Sherlock ordered a hamburger with fries and a bottle of water, and John ordered a large hotdog and cheese fries with a Coke, so they handed over their money and waited for their orders to be prepared.
"I'm tired after that bike ride." John decided, leaning slightly against the menu board, probably to the annoyance of the people still waiting in line.
"You're telling me. The last time I exercised was, I can't actually tell you." Sherlock agreed.
"Then how the heck do you stay so abnormally skinny?" John asked with a confused look.
"Fast metabolism I guess." Sherlock shrugged, he knew it was something to be proud of, because if he didn't come equipped with that feature he'd be a human potato.
"Lucky." John muttered.
"Oh come on, you may not be a stick but you haven't got an ounce of fat on you!" Sherlock defended.
"Thank you for noticing." John laughed, making Sherlock go red again.
"No, I... I didn't mean it like that, I..." he stammered, not knowing what to do, looking anxiously around to avoid John's eye contact.
"Relax Sherlock, I was joking, don't worry." He assured, laughing a little bit. At that moment, thankfully, their orders were called, so the two of them retrieved their baskets of junk food and went near a clump of trees to sit and eat their very unhealthy lunches. Sherlock leaned against a tree, watching a bird hop around in a berry bush and pluck off the last of the withering summer fruit, sighing and taking a large bite of his hamburger. For cheap street food it wasn't bad, although Mrs. Hudson always grilled them to perfection at his house.
"School tomorrow." John mumbled.
"Yep." Sherlock agreed with a sigh, not wanting to go of course.
"You must dread it." John decided.
"Well yes, of course I dread it." Sherlock agreed. "The people are rubbish the teachers are useless and the information is elementary, I don't know why I couldn't graduate in fifth grade."
"You're lucky to have that problem." John sighed.
"Why is that?" Sherlock asked, confused about why someone would want to have his miserable life.
"I'm failing out of most my classes and I've got way too many people swarming me. I can never get any personal space and I can barely name them all." John pointed out; making it sound as if being popular was such hard work.
"Well, it's better than all of them wanting to shove your head in a toilet." Sherlock defended.
"Maybe not." John shrugged. "Has that ever happened to you?" he asked, a small smile creeping onto his face.
"You did that to me, freshman year, one of the first weeks actually." Sherlock said nervously, as if he were giving him ideas.
"I did?" John asked, sounding amused.
"You don't remember?"
"apparently not." John muttered. "Sorry about that."
"It's water under the bridge now I suppose." Sherlock sighed.
"Stop using stupid metaphors or I'll refresh my memory." John warned, but he was giggling a little bit.
"Ya, ya, whatever." Sherlock sighed, about half way through his hamburger when John suddenly tensed up.
"Oh my god, it's Anderson, Sherlock hide!" he exclaimed. Sherlock dropped his lunch, understanding the severity of this situation and diving into the underbrush. He crawled a couple of feet before he heard an excited gasp; obviously Anderson had been going to order lunch and noticed John. Sherlock prayed to whichever God wanted to listen that he was well hidden, or that Anderson was too stupid to put two and two together.
"Well if it isn't John Watson!" Anderson's loud, deep voice exclaimed, as if it were such a miracle to see someone he knew around town.
"Anderson, I didn't expect to see you here!" John exclaimed, sounding falsely delighted.
"Haven't seen you since practice, heard you had a date with Mary, how'd that go?" Anderson asked. Sherlock barely dared to breathe, where was he? Sherlock's leg was pressed uncomfortably against a pointy stick, he so desperately wanted to move it, but the fallen leaves would blow his cover, any shift in weight might trigger Anderson's attention.
"It was fine, ya. We went down to Angelo's." John agreed.
"God John, good thing you're rich. I'd never be able to afford that." Anderson pointed out.
"Well, there's a lot of rich people out here, maybe you can get one of them to hook you up." John shrugged.
"Are you suggesting I date the freak, because I'd rather shoot his brains out." Anderson laughed, as if murder was some type of joke. It made Sherlock's blood run cold, were they actually prepared to kill him?
"Oh well, I'm with you there. Unfortunately I've had a near death experience with that already." John agreed. If the fact of death scared him, that scared him even more. Was John serious, or was he just playing Anderson so that he believed they were both purely anti freak?
"What are you even doing here?" Anderson asked.
"Oh, just having some lunch, it's nice to get some pure air in your lungs once in a while." John admitted.
"Lots of food you got there, is there someone else I should know about?" Anderson asked in a joking tone. Sherlock tensed, prepared to run in case Anderson came looking.
"No, I'm just really hungry." John said, but he didn't sound all that confident.
"If you're cheating Mary will have your head." Anderson warned.
"That's precisely why I'm not." John agreed. There was a tense silence, but finally Anderson's forced laugh broke it.
"Alright, but I'll be watching you. My order's done anyway and I've got to go, my parents want me to be back for some leaf raking. Not everyone's got a maid to do it for them." Anderson laughed.
"See you tomorrow at practice. Got to get ready to beat those bears next Friday." John agreed.
"You got that right, bash their brains in, and let's hope you don't have to kiss the freak, or you'll have to bathe in disinfectant!" Anderson decided. John laughed, and finally Sherlock heard footsteps walking away. But he waited, not daring to move in case Anderson was still watching. After about ten minutes there was a hiss and he heard John shift against the tree.
"Sherlock, he's gone." John said semi quietly. Sherlock sighed with relief; feeling like the twig had been cutting into his slacks, and dragged himself to his feet. He walked out of the brush, dusting his clothes off of any stray twigs and leaves, and plopped back down. Thankfully his burger had landed on the wrapper, so there was no mud or dirt to ruin his appetite.
"That was close." John decided, letting out a contained breath of relief.
"Too close." Sherlock agreed.
"He's too stupid to put things together though; he'll never think anything of it." John assured.
"I hope you're right about that." Sherlock agreed.
"I am, don't you worry." John laughed, finishing off the last of his hot dog and moving on to the cheese fries. Sherlock had somewhat lost his appetite though, the fact that Anderson might have a clue of what was actually going on made his stomach twist with anxiety. Would John lose his reputation as well, or would he play it off as if it were all a set up? And it still could very much well be a setup, this might be a play or something, John pretending to care about Sherlock, Anderson planted precisely at the same location for lunch to make sure Sherlock had no suspicions at all, it was perfect.
"You're awfully quiet." John pointed out, and Sherlock just hummed his agreement, picking at his own tray of French fries.
"You don't actually want to blow my brains out do you?" Sherlock asked nervously.
"Of course not! I had to say that to get Anderson off of my back, don't worry." John assured.
"Everyone is so violent around here, Mary wants me to hang myself, Anderson wants to shoot me, I just expect some freshman to stab me when my back is turned." Sherlock admitted with a small laugh, but it wasn't funny at all.
"Well let's just stay out of the Hunger Games and we'll be good." John agreed. Sherlock nodded, not even wanting to think what might happen to him if somehow they were able to kill each other. Anderson and Greg would pull his limbs off one by one probably.
"Don't worry Sherlock, I won't hurt you." John said after a little bit of quiet.
"And I'm not able to hurt you." Sherlock pointed out, both literally and metaphorically. He wasn't strong enough to make a bruise, but then again he wouldn't want to. It would be like punching his own heart; every blow would hurt him more than it would John. He would never be able to hurt John Watson, even if his life depended on it. When John was done with his food Sherlock had long since abandoned his own, his had hopelessly lost his appetite, and was now just leaning on the tree, his eyes and ears alert and searching for any signs of football players.
"Are you done?" John asked after he drained the last of his drink, setting down the can into the mud.
"Oh, yes." Sherlock agreed, nodding. John stole one of the fries out of his basket playfully, but took everything and got up, making his way over to the trash can. Sherlock's heart swelled, John really was a nice person when he wasn't being a total bully. Sherlock got to his feet, making sure they had cleaned up all of their trash and followed John out to the path, where Anderson was nowhere to be found.
"I better head home now; Mycroft will be asking all these questions." Sherlock groaned.
"And I've got homework." John agreed.
"Why don't you just do it at school?" Sherlock asked curiously.
"Because unlike you I don't have the time, so I'm forced to actually do it at home." John pointed out, making Sherlock frown, he had always completed his homework at school, never has he actually taken it home.
"So, tomorrow, you can come down to the stadium if you want, but be discrete." John suggested.
"I'll just wait for you here; I don't want to arouse any suspicion." Sherlock decided, honestly terrified of what Anderson might do to him if he were caught sneaking around the stadium.
"Fair enough." John agreed.