These Days

People Talk too Much

"Ah, John, there you are!" Mary exclaimed, walking down the hall to meet them. Sherlock and John were in the lobby, Sherlock was back to handing out candy and John was leaning on the wall, staring adoringly at his scowling face.
"Mary, where were you?" John asked. She was towing a now very sleepy Captain America in her wake, looking pretty annoyed for a Leprechaun.
"Looking for you, where have you been?" Mary demanded.
"I was with Mr. Holmes; he was showing me some of the art work Hamish did." John defended. It wasn't a total lie; he was just keeping out the parts that really mattered. He had slipped his wedding ring back on behind his back, not remembering that it was absent until his wife had come prowling around.
"Well it's time to go; our little superhero is getting pretty tired." Mary decided. Hamish yawned as to prove her point.
"Alright, I'd say the night is quite finished as well." John agreed, getting back to his sturdy feet and following his family out the door.
"Good night Mr. Holmes." John decided. Sherlock smiled at him, the vampire teeth back in his mouth.
"Good night Mr. Watson, Mrs. Watson, and Captain America." He agreed, giving Hamish a little bit more candy in his bag. Hamish smiled sleepily up at him, but seemed more interested in getting in the car than more candy. The Watson family walked out of the school, Mary leading with Hamish and John trailing behind, lost in a Holmes induced daze. At this point John was so ready to just dump Mary, throw the ring at her and leave with Sherlock, but he couldn't do that to Hamish. Somehow, someway, he needed to let the boy sink into the idea. But John knew that he couldn't waste his life with the woman he didn't want as his wife, not when the true love of his life was so accessible. Everything was rolling out perfectly, obviously fate had them meet, but there were other factors involved that weren't anticipated, other factors that had to be and would be eliminated, somehow.    

       Sherlock POV. Sherlock wasn't allowed to leave until everything was properly cleaned up, which was a big hassle that the janitors could very easily do themselves.
"So, I noticed you were absent for a little while, taking another breath of fresh air?" Molly asked as they took down the streamers around the banister. Sherlock was sort of ripping at them, not thinking it a problem if there were small pieces of colored tape still clinging to the metal.
"I was showing a parent the art room." he snapped.
"Which parent?" Molly asked.
"It doesn't really matter does it?" Sherlock asked.
"Was it that Mr. Watson?" Molly asked. Sherlock paused for a moment, wondering how she knew that.
"Yes in fact, it was." Sherlock agreed, going back to peeling away the streamers.
"I met him when I yelled at you the first time, he seemed nice." Molly decided.
"He is nice." Sherlock agreed.
"Was that just a complement I heard? Not from you, surely?" Molly asked, pretending to be surprised. Sherlock just swatted at her with the streamers in his hand, scowling.
"Well he's certainly not bossy and annoying, like most people I know." Sherlock snapped.
"I'm not trying to be bossy and annoying; you've got a job to do." Molly defended. Sherlock pretended he hadn't heard her, dumping the torn streamers into the trash can and going back for another handful.
"I think it's nice that you had a conversation, it seems good for you." Molly decided.
"I'm having a conversation right now." Sherlock pointed out.
"Well, I'm sort of talking at you than with you." Molly shrugged.
"I'm responding." Sherlock pointed out.
"Which is a good start." Molly agreed. Sherlock just frowned more.
"I talk to people." he pointed out.
"Who?" Molly asked.
"Mrs. Hudson, my landlady." He decided.
"You live in an apartment?" she asked.
"I just moved here, give me a break!" Sherlock snapped.
"No, it's fine, it's fine, and how old is this Mrs. Hudson?" Molly asked, her tone a bit defensive. Surely she wasn't getting jealous?
"Old enough to be my mother." Sherlock pointed out. Molly nodded, but she looked relieved for some reason. Sherlock looked at her with confusion; she couldn't possibly like him, like, like that could she? If she did, she was in for a bit of a nasty surprise.
"So you don't have a girlfriend then?" she asked.
"No." Sherlock said sternly.
"Not really a social butterfly then. Who else do you talk to?" Molly asked.
"You." Sherlock shrugged.
"Other than me." Molly insisted.
"Mr. Watson." Sherlock decided.
"One time." Molly sighed.
"No, I talked to him about gifted." Sherlock defended.
"But he's a parent, you have to talk to him, he shouldn't count." Molly decided. Sherlock felt himself blushing a little bit, thinking about the kissing in the art room. He really should count.
"I don't need to talk to people, I'm perfectly happy in my own head, thank you." Sherlock decided.
"Someday you'll need to get it out." Molly decided.
"And Mrs. Hudson will be there if that day comes, which it won't." Sherlock decided. Molly just shrugged, tearing the last streamer off of the banister a bit aggressively and going to find some more work. When the teachers were finally allowed to leave, Sherlock drove in silence to his apartment, tapping the steering wheel as he replayed all of the occurrences in his head. He had never been the one to initiate a kiss, he had never really kissed anyone before, and now he had kissed John what, three times in one evening? This was something he never would've imagined, but something that could never turn out to be anything. John said he was prepared to take the risks having an affair involved, but was he really willing? Not only would it turn Mary violent, it would break poor Hamish's heart. The kid may like Sherlock as a teacher for some stupid reason, but he obviously would never be his father, even if by some miracle the opportunity presented itself Hamish wouldn't accept it.
"Oh Sherlock, you're home!" Mrs. Hudson said happily, rushing to the doorway with a smile and an apron.
"Yes, I know, I've got autographed pictures as well." Sherlock muttered.
"Oh you look so funny with that vampire costume." Mrs. Hudson giggled.
"Like I said, it wasn't my idea." Sherlock pointed out. He wanted to tell her about John, he wanted someone to know about his accomplishments with another human being, but he decided that if Mrs. Hudson knew the whole town would. She's one for gossip, and this was the best around. Then again, Mrs. Hudson would probably want Sherlock to do the right thing, to remind John of just how wrong their entire relationship was and to end it on the spot. He just couldn't do that, not to John, not to himself. This was the first time in his entire life that he had woken with a smile on his face, that he was happy to be part of this cruel world. He felt accepted, like there was a place for him here rather than just a dead meat mistake.
"You look very thoughtful." Mrs. Hudson decided.
"Yes well, we can't all have an air head." Sherlock sighed, dropping his coat on the peg and jumping up the steps two at a time. He heard Mrs. Hudson sigh downstairs, obviously used to comments like that. Sherlock closed the door, leaning against the frame and staring into his empty flat. It was so lonely. But not anymore, maybe, just maybe, there would be a little bit more Watson to brighten the place up. Maybe in a year he'd have to get a new chair, or John would have an entirely new ring on his finger, one that would match Sherlock's. A year could bring so many joys. But then again, a year could bring so many tragedies. Maybe in a year the flat would be empty, dusty, and deserted. Maybe in a year John would be as lonely as Sherlock was now, buying flowers to hike up a hill and talk to an engraved rock, the only sign that there ever was a Sherlock Holmes alive. No, Sherlock couldn't think like that, he wasn't going to die, it was only an affair, the worst that could happen was that it would be crushed. Sherlock wouldn't die, John wouldn't die, but they might be a bit depressed, or in trouble, but they'd be perfectly alive. Never the less it wasn't like Sherlock was living for much, Mrs. Hudson was the only thing on this planet that kept him going strong. Well, her and John. Sherlock went to his room, trading this pathetic vampire costume for his pajamas and sinking under the covers with a sigh. That carnival had been a lot more enjoyable than he could ever have hoped for.