Like a Fairytale

Keeping Up Appearances

A/N: Hello, author here. It has come to my attention that the last published part was completely the wrong part of the story, how that happened I have no idea, but do your best to forget it please. This tacks onto the last part (Tour De Losers) and is the next part of the story. So sorry and (River Song voice) Spoilers... They looked around the sidewalks before they walked out, just in case someone had been sitting on the curb or something. They walked along the road, avoiding people, trash cans, and advertisements yet still managing to walk side by side. They had retrieved their things from under the tree before they left; thankfully no one had been stupid enough to steal from them.
"That was actually a lot of fun." John decided as they approached his house.
"I suppose so, ya." Sherlock agreed. It was actually close to paradise for him, but he wasn't going to tell that to John.
"Alright, I'll see you at school tomorrow." John decided, turning off the sidewalk to his skyscraper home.
"See you." Sherlock agreed, smiling at the little wave John gave him and continued down the street, feeling almost like he were walking purely on clouds. John had fun with him, they spent time together, John was willing to hide Sherlock from bullies like a forbidden romance, what more could Sherlock ask for? When he walked up his sidewalk he couldn't be happier, well, he supposed he could be, but right now it felt like he had never been so carefree. He walked through his door, hearing Redbeard's weak barks from upstairs, and saw that his parents were sitting in the living room, which opened up right from the entrance way.
"Hello Sherlock." Mrs. Holmes said pleasantly.
"Hi." Sherlock muttered, anxious to get up the stairs.
"We've been worried, where have you been?" Mr. Holmes asked, less pleasant and more unnerving.
"At the park." Sherlock said quickly.
"With?" he asked. Mrs. Holmes took a quick sip of her tea, as if trying to avoid hearing the suspicious tone in her husband's voice.
"No one, just myself." Sherlock lied.
"Why don't I believe that?" Mr. Holmes asked. Sherlock put on a fake laugh, as if he couldn't believe what he was hearing.
"I'm sorry, are you saying I have friends, because I'd love to hear the list. I was reading under a tree, I got a hamburger from the stand, I can show you the receipt if you'd like, Mr. Detective." Sherlock snapped, digging out the thin sheet of paper and waving it around as proof.
"Don't use that tone on me young man, or I'll cut your allowance." Mr. Holmes warned. Sherlock shut his mouth, desperately wanting to run up the stairs but too afraid of getting in trouble.
"Mrs. Hudson said you've been making a friend." Mrs. Holmes pointed out, sounding much more excited than Mr. Holmes, who just scowled into his now cold tea.
"No, I'm tutoring, there's a difference, and it was a Sunday, he's home doing who knows what." Sherlock defended.
"This isn't an interrogation dear, it's perfectly normal to make a friend, you shouldn't be scared. And if you'd like to invite him over some time that would be fine with us." Mrs. Holmes assured with a pleasant smile.
"No, I do not have a friend, just leave me be okay?" Sherlock hissed, and with that he dashed up the steps before she could ask any more questions. He heard the muttering of his parents from the sitting room, obviously disapproving of his disrespect, but he just wasn't in the mood to be gossiping about all of his friends. He closed the door with a sigh, leaning up against the door frame and wanting so badly to see John again. It was like a flesh eating disease or whatever, it ate up at you, his smile, his laugh, the way his hair glittered in the sunlight, and the more you saw him the more this disease took hold until you were completely engulfed. Sherlock was so helplessly diseased he should be quarantined, but then again, no one in this house knew except him and Redbeard, who thankfully didn't know the word Freak or gay, so he wouldn't be judging would he? Redbeard was lying on the ground, and from where Sherlock stood he looked a little bit thin, maybe Mrs. Hudson had been putting him on a diet or something, she was always complaining about how fat he was for his age.
"Hello Redbeard." Sherlock muttered, throwing his bag in the corner and pacing around his room a little bit. His room was honestly a mess since he didn't let Mrs. Hudson into clean it. The bedspread and carpet was filled with dust and red dog hair, dirty laundry was spewed all over the floor, he was just all around a wreck. But this was neat and orderly compared to his racing, confused head. Half of it was whispering that John liked him, that he had a chance, but the other half was screaming that John was just playing him, he expected Sherlock to believe this and it was exactly what he wanted for a good laugh. Sherlock's head felt like it was splitting apart, he didn't know which side was right and he wasn't quite sure which one he wanted to be right. Of course he wanted John to love him, God knows he himself was far past letting him walk away, but then again their relationship would create even more problems. One day they'd have to tell their parents, one day Anderson would find out, and he'd have to dump Mary, which would pose its own threat to both of their lives. No one even knew they were acquaintances, how would boyfriends go over? Both families couldn't mention the other without stabbing a knife in the table, Thanksgiving would be an absolute nightmare. Sherlock sank into the pillows of his bed, lost in thought, lost in this intoxicating love, John, John, John. It was Romeo and Juliet, some impossible fairy tale, except all fairy tales ended badly. Well, not the Disney ones, where everyone lives happily ever after, they were twisted for children's eyes, but half the princesses either get killed or mutilated someway. Hopefully his life wouldn't be a fairy tale, but just a normal life, without money and family and bullies.