These Days

Vikings and Math Problems

As the days past John's strange obsession had grown even more to the point where he wanted to fake a question just to get into Sherlock's classroom. He was not only having dreams of Mr. Holmes at night, but in the daytime he'd often catch himself thinking of Sherlock, thinking of what he was doing or how great of a father he would be. And as this spark grew, his fire with Mary died and died. She wasn't noticing of course, but John would smile without love and laugh without humor, his glances in her direction were anything but loving and he wanted to spit out every kiss he revived. John was starting to accept whatever this was, it wasn't just friendship. He didn't love Sherlock Holmes, of course it wasn't love, but it was very much like. You could even say he had a crush on him. It sounded so childish, like rumors spread on corners of worksheets, but it was the only word that fit. John knew that nothing would become of it, the odds were stacked so high that he could climb to the sun, and he knew that there was nothing he could do anything. Just sit to himself and suffer slowly in this house that seemed to be turning into a jail. Of course Hamish could brighten his mood, while playing with his action figures and coloring pictures, just his little smiles were enough to make John smile back. But it's been so long, John really wanted to just talk to Mr. Holmes, see how he was doing, not even romantically or anything. He was adult enough to see that nothing would work, no matter how charming Sherlock was or how devilishly attractive he may be, nothing could work. John sat at the computer for a good while staring at the email he was preparing to send. It looked fine, casual and all that, and he really hoped Sherlock wouldn't take it the wrong way. Mr. Holmes, I was wondering if I could come over to the school and maybe go over some of the work that Hamish has been doing here. I don't think he's turning it in and I want to make sure he's doing everything correctly and the way that you taught him. I certainly don't want to be getting in the way of any strategies or stuff you're teaching down there. From, John Watson. It seemed like a reasonable enough excuse to meet up, but he could only hope they put the papers aside and talk about other matters. It's been so long since he's even seen Sherlock, he's never at the doors of the school anymore, as if he's been avoiding the Watson Family eye. When John casually asked Hamish about his teacher's well being Hamish just shrugged, said he was good, and went on to playing or eating or whatever he happened to be doing at the moment. Of course a child's view of well being and an adult's are much different, kids can't pick up the unseen pain or the odd silence or the distant stares of an upset human. They just thought it was things adults did. John clicked send with a deep breath, hoping beyond hope that Sherlock would respond as enthusiastically as he did. Nothing could happen between them, but if they couldn't be together then he'd have to settle for friends.

Sherlock POV. Thankfully he was on his computer when the email came up, because Sherlock was feeling very low at the moment. He was sitting on his bed in his pajamas, his laptop on his lap as he browsed through pictures on google. Mrs. Hudson had recommended a companion for him, so of course he was looking up pictures of Red Setter Puppies. Even for his cold heart they were adorable. The little email icon jumped up and down, and when he clicked on it his heart nearly stopped. It was from John, he was asking for a meeting! Sherlock quickly responded, saying how that would be brilliant and requesting times. To his absolute delight John responded almost as quickly as he had, saying that Tuesday after dinner would work, considering that John's work was likely to run over time a little bit. Sherlock was complaining, not one bit, he could see John again! It was what, Friday, so that left him about four days to get prepared. Something about math work, Sherlock didn't quite understand but he wasn't complaining, anything to see that gorgeous blonde once more. To be honest he hadn't seen John since the chair got mutilated. He hadn't even seen the van. Sherlock was making it a priority to give the poor man his space, because of course he must be wondering by now why Sherlock was stalking him every pick up and drop off. He mustn't give himself hope when there was none, and by avoiding the Watsons all together was working somehow. Of course Mrs. Hudson still fussed and his heart stung, but it was a lot better than crying every night over a glass of whiskey. Maybe John was as desperate to make contact as Sherlock was. Hope, he had hope, but for how long? Sherlock's common sense was bound to take over, to rip this hope and twist until he was sure this was some type of assassination attempt. John wanted to meet, that was all, it didn't mean anything surely. But as the days crawled by the opposite happened, he might have been trying to remove himself from this insane feeling but he couldn't help but anticipate their meeting. The weekend approached and Sherlock spent most of his time at a men's department store, trying to find a new shirt or something, to mix it up a bit. He even inquired Mrs. Hudson to see which color would fit him best. She was thrilled to help, and he played model for all day Sunday until they decided that a dark purple shirt provided a good contrast to his skin tone but also matched his hair. He wasn't an expert in fashion, but Sherlock thought that the shirt fit him well and all that crap. As a 'complementary treat', but in reality Sherlock knew she only wanted to know who he was buying it for. By the time they were walking home it was around seven o'clock and Sherlock was about beat.
"So, who's the lucky lady?" Mrs. Hudson asked. Sherlock scowled, buttoning up his trench coat and trying to pretend he didn't hear her.
"It's not for anyone." Sherlock lied. Well, it definitely wasn't for a lady if that was what she was implying.
"Oh come on, I've been in your position before. I spent a whole week shopping for my first date with Mr. Hudson." She pointed out.
"And we saw how that worked out." Sherlock muttered.
"We got married, so I'd say it worked fine." She pointed out.
"That's why I avoid relationships, because you think you found the one until they get charged with double murder." Sherlock pointed out.
"Oh that wasn't my fault." Mrs. Hudson insisted. "But come on, I want to hear, who is Sherlock Holmes trying to impress?"
"The office I suppose. I've been trying to get friendlier around those morons so they don't fire me as soon as I suspect." Sherlock pointed out.
"Why would they fire you?" Mrs. Hudson asked.
"Well I guess there's a pick up and drop of schedule and I didn't even read the first day packet and the kids are everywhere and I made one cry and I told them Santa wasn't real and I have newspaper clippings of death and destruction hanging on my wall, which we discuss." Sherlock shrugged.
"Oh Sherlock, I never will understand your logic. They're second graders!" Mrs. Hudson insisted.
"That doesn't mean they shouldn't see the world as it is." Sherlock pointed out.
"But don't you think it's nice to have people in this world that don't see it as the Hell it is? Don't you think it's nicer to live in the shadows, just for a little bit?"
"And wonder into some stranger's van because they definitely have candy in there." Sherlock added.
"Not like that, I just don't think kids that young should know that there are murders to that extend. They should know enough to keep them safe, and that's it." Mrs. Hudson insisted.
"Rubbish." Sherlock muttered.
"Do you like the world Sherlock?" Mrs. Hudson asked.
"You know the answer to that question." Sherlock snapped.
"I like the world." Mrs. Hudson decided.
"I don't." Sherlock insisted.
"I know." Mrs. Hudson agreed with a disappointed sigh.