The Things Unseen

Forbidden Fruit

    "Hello Sherlock." Victor said with a smile. But he wasn't wearing a uniform, in fact, he and Sherlock had the same idea when they picked out their clothes, because Victor was wearing a very expensive looking suit, his hair slicked into a beautiful little wave on the top of his head, and he was holding what looked to be a very fancy fruit tray in a crystal dish.
"Hi...Victor." Sherlock mumbled, his face getting as red as the fresh strawberries in the fruit tray. Victor just smiled at him, and Sherlock was sure he had already sweat through his suit with nerves.
"Victor, come in!" Mrs. Holmes swept in, opening the door wider so that the now bewildered Sherlock could step out of the way and let Victor in. He stepped into the entry way, looking confident yet more awkward that Sherlock had ever seen him, there was just a smidge, a tiny hint, of doubt in his complexion, as if he didn't yet know what he was supposed to do.
"A fruit tray, for you. Minus the apples of course, because I'm sure nothing the fruit market could conjure up would be anything near as delicious as the ones you grow." Victor said sweetly, handing Mrs. Holmes the dish.
"Oh how lovely, thank you so much Victor!" she said happily, receiving the food with a look of pure amazement, as if she had never imagined holding something so expensive.
"Sherlock, take his coat." She whispered, loud enough for Sherlock to hear but unfortunately also for Victor to hear.
"But, he's not wearing one..." Sherlock muttered, and Victor just chuckled, as if Sherlock and his family were the most amusing people he had seen.
"I uh, I can take your jacket I suppose?" Sherlock asked.
"That's quite alright. You look very snazzy if I may say." Victor said.
"Oh, you may." Sherlock agreed, only realizing just how creepy that sounded until after the words had already left his mouth. "I mean, you, you do too. Very snazzy."
"Well, don't be a stranger, come on!" Grandma Holmes insisted from the kitchen. She was sitting in one of the dining room chairs and looking at Victor through her glasses as if judging his soul from where she was sitting. Sherlock was quite happy that this was the second time they were meeting, because his grandmother's first impressions were almost never good, but she warmed up to people in the end.
"Is he here?" asked a grunting voice from the stairway, a voice Sherlock had barely heard since the night he had run. Mr. Holmes walked down the stairs in a grumpy sort of way, buttoning the last of the buttons on his jacket as he came down.
"Ah, Mr. Holmes, nice to meet you sir." Victor said very formally, walking over and holding out a hand for Mr. Holmes to shake. Instead though, Mr. Holmes just stared at him harshly.
"You're the boy that took in my son?" he growled. Victor didn't flinch, which might have seemed like the right idea for him, but for Sherlock it was the worst thing you could do. Mr. Holmes preyed on weakness, and if he didn't see it in an inferior's eyes, well, he'll make sure he did by the end of the night.
"Why, yes sir, I didn't see any other option." Victor insisted.
"Now dear, be nice. Victor was only trying to help." Mrs. Holmes insisted, the level of tension rising steadily in the house as Mr. Holmes' glare continued on. In the end he just grunted, walking around Victor and going to peek in the oven at what was cooking. Sherlock finally let out the breath he had been holding.
"So, you said you've had our apples before?" Mrs. Holmes asked.
"Why yes, they're the best around." Victor said happily.
"Sorry we can't sell them anymore, all of our product goes directly to our troops." Mrs. Holmes admitted.
"Then I shall certainly look forward to finding one when I'm deployed." Victor said with a smile.
"Sherlock could take you on a walk if you'd like, through the fields while I'm finishing our dinner." Mrs. Holmes offered.
"It's getting dark, they'll trip and break their legs!" Grandma Holmes insisted.
"Mom, it's not even sunset yet." Mrs. Holmes insisted.
"We'll be fine." Sherlock insisted.
"Well then, that would be lovely." Victor agreed. "And may I add that whatever food is cooking smells exquisite."
"What does that even mean?" Grandma Holmes croaked from her seat.
"Let's go walk." Sherlock decided in an instant, suddenly wanting Victor as far away from his family as he could possibly get him. Victor followed Sherlock out the back sliding door, through the wired in porch, and into the fields of apples. The night was chilly, but not too cold that they needed to return inside to get their jackets. There was a light breeze playing softly though the air, but it did little to calm Sherlock down, as now he was walking deeper into solitude with Victor.
"I'm really sorry about my family. They can be, well, overwhelming." Sherlock insisted as soon as he was sure they were out of ear shot.
"Oh don't worry, there's no issue at all. As I said before, be thankful you even have a family." Victor insisted.
"You've got a family." Sherlock insisted.
"I might as well be an orphan." Victor sighed. The apple trees were in full bloom, red fruit simply bursting off the sagging branches of the trees, the dying sunlight reflecting off of the peels like Christmas lights.
"It's beautiful out here." Victor decided.
"Ya well, it's just another day." Sherlock sighed.
"Do you ever get to work out here?" Victor asked.
"Oh, no, we've got workers who do that." Sherlock insisted.
"Do you get to eat the apples?" Victor asked.
"Oh, all the time. They're always around, but I've never been allowed to pick them off of the tree. They're best that way, but mom insisted we only take what we don't need to send, so they're always the rejects from the overflowing boxes." Sherlock shrugged.
"Well, then you can blame it on me." Victor decided.
"Blame what on you?" Sherlock asked, but just as he finished his sentence Victor plucked a large, red apple off of the tree and tossed it lightly to Sherlock, who caught it in surprise.
"If my dad caught you..." he muttered.
"You're father isn't here right now though, is he?" Victor asked.
"I feel like he's watching anyways." Sherlock insisted, now feeling obligated to eat the apple now that Victor had picked it. So he took a large bit, savoring the fresh picked flavor that the apples in his house just couldn't justify.
"Do you happen to know what's on the menu tonight?" Victor asked as they walked on. The light was now starting to dim, the array of beautiful flaming colors starting to decline over the horizon.
"No idea. I'm not involved in any of it." Sherlock shrugged.
"Whatever it is, it smells good." Victor decided.
"Well, my mom's killing herself trying to make a good impression." Sherlock shrugged.
"I feel bad that your first impression of my house was so, well, bloody." Victor shrugged.
"There probably wasn't a speck of dust!" Sherlock insisted.
"Yes, well, that makes it feel more like a fancy prison, trying to make my stay worthwhile." Victor sighed.
"What will Mrs. Turner do when you go to war?" Sherlock asked.
"I assume she'll keep the house up to par for when we return." Victor sighed.
"Your life will improve after the war, I'm sure of it." Sherlock insisted.
"That depends on the outcome." Victor sighed. Sherlock took another bite out of the apple as an excuse not to say anything more. Suddenly though, Victor snatched it out of his hands, like a child stealing someone else's toy.
"Hey, seriously?" Sherlock asked, making a mad grab for the stolen fruit. Victor laughed, holding it at arm's length, just so that Sherlock couldn't reach it. They played a little game of keep away until finally Victor held it over his shoulder and Sherlock finally came to his senses, realizing that he was so close to Victor that he could smell his fancy imported cologne. Victor was still smiling down at him, but there seemed to be something different in his face, something that Sherlock hadn't seen in his expression before. Without a word Victor took a large bite out of the apple, as if his reward, and still Sherlock couldn't bring himself to step away. He felt like he couldn't step away until he had a suitable reason to, and there just wasn't one yet.
"You're blushing Sherlock." Victor pointed out, his words so close that he barely whispered and still Sherlock could hear him perfectly. That was his reason, and Sherlock stumbled back in blind shock, the oranges and reds of the now setting sun illuminating Victor from behind, who still had a sort of triumphant smile on his face.
"That seems to happen." Sherlock agreed.
"Has anyone ever kissed you before?" Victor asked, his voice as smooth and carefree as a stream over polished rocks. Sherlock couldn't be more alarmed at that question, but he simply stared in amazement. What was he asking, was he asking just for information or did he want to be the first? Millions of thoughts rushed through Sherlock's head like a torrent, and yet only one seemed to make the most sense.
"You're...you're a homosexual?" Sherlock asked. But even as he asked, he knew it was true. It really was the only way the puzzle pieces fit together. Victor, on the other hand, didn't look as if this were an actual accusation. He didn't seem fazed at all.
"You're not?" he asked calmly.
"I'm...well...I'm offended!" Sherlock insisted. "It's illegal!" Why would he say that? But what else could he say? Of course he didn't want to actually kiss Victor, but then again, this might be his only opportunity to, but then again, why would he ever want to take advantage? He had made his point clear, it was illegal, it was wrong! Then why did it feel so right? A slow smile started to creep onto Victor's lips, and he seemed to know exactly the kind of conflict that was going on in Sherlock's head. He knew that Sherlock wanted to kiss him just as much as he wanted to kiss Sherlock.
"That's not much of an answer." He insisted, throwing the half eaten apple into the trees once more.
"That's not a question I feel comfortable with." Sherlock insisted. Victor just seemed amused, as if Sherlock were some bumbling little child who was just starting to piece the world together.
"So, you're saying, that if I step closer, that you'd run away?" Victor asked. Sherlock nodded with enthusiasm, but it didn't seem to be his own brain instructing him to. His brain was telling him no, that he'd step closer as well, but there seemed to be an anti-gay instruction manual that was telling him what to do right now. Victor took a couple of steps closer, but not too close, leaving about a foot of space between them, as if he didn't want to make Sherlock too uncomfortable.
"How about if I come closer, what then?" he asked.
"I'd run, of course, I couldn't..." Sherlock muttered, but he couldn't decide what he couldn't do. There seemed only one thing he wanted to do. Victor took one large step closer, so that once again there was barely an inch of space separating the two. Sherlock couldn't bring himself to look Victor in the eyes, so he just stared determinedly at Victor's beautiful face, his chiseled cheek bones, his perfectly centered nose, his red lips that looked so inviting...
"How about this close?" Victor so much as whispered, and he broke all of the space between them, standing so close to Sherlock that they were practically pressed up against each other. Sherlock could feel Victor's soft breath, feel the beating of his heart, he almost felt as though he could feel the blood rushing through the other boy's veins.
"It's illegal; I'd have to step away." Sherlock mumbled, but his voice was getting caught in his throat, the words simply didn't want to be said, so that he was barely whispering at this point.
"And if I took your hands?" Victor asked, and as he said it Sherlock felt two soft hands slide into his, as if they were perfect matches. Victor's skin was warm, but Sherlock was sure his palms were so sweaty with fear that Victor would pull away immediately.
"I'd pull away, I'd run, I'd get the police." Sherlock muttered, his voice so low that he doubted Victor could hear him at all. There seemed to be no escaping it now, Victor was going to kiss him, and there was nothing he could do, even if he didn't want to. But he did, oh he did.
"You know what Sherlock?" Victor asked, his face so close that Sherlock's entire body was shaking with fear.
"What?" he managed in a weak little croak.
"I think you're a liar." Victor whispered, and with that he pressed the smallest of kisses, just a small touch, onto Sherlock's lips, and it seemed like the entire world had melted away. Sherlock had never been kissed before, and to have that end, here and now, with this beautiful boy in sunset, it was the most magical thing Sherlock could ever imagine. The problem was, though, that Sherlock had no idea how to react. Victor kept his face close, close and available for any follow ups, but Sherlock was so winded that he couldn't even manage to stop breathing, his heart pumping so fast that he was sure he could go run a marathon and not nearly get as much of a thrill. But Victor was close, so close, Sherlock had to do something! So he did what he thought he should, and pecked at Victor's lips as well, but of course he was so delusional that he was only able to get the corner of the other boy's lips before tapering off in total embarrassment. Finally Victor got the signal, and he pulled away, pulling his hands away and standing far enough away for Sherlock to feel semi-sort of comfortable. Sherlock though, was so absolutely in a daze that there didn't seem to be anything he could do except gasp for breath, trying to permanently carve the memory of this kiss into his brain, chisel the feeling of Victor's lips onto his own so that he'd never forget just how they had felt...
"I've always wanted to do that you know?" Victor asked. For the first time Sherlock saw a proper blush in his beautiful cheeks. He was as flustered as Sherlock had ever seen him.
"This...this could be..." Sherlock muttered.
"Illegal? Forbidden? Dangerous?" Victor guessed, more with amusement than fear. Maybe he liked that fact that this relationship could never work.
"I was going to say...worth it." Sherlock admitted.
"Those are the words I was hoping you'd say." Victor admitted. Sherlock cracked a forced smile, just to try to make sure Victor knew he was happy, happier than he'd ever have thought possible before now.
"Do you think your mother is finished with dinner?" Victor asked.
"Now?" Sherlock asked.
"We shouldn't stay out here to long, they'll get suspicious." Victor insisted.
"They'll be more suspicious if we come in here blushing the shade of the apples." Sherlock insisted.
"Let's race there. Then we'd have a good excuse." Victor suggested.
"How is your mind still working?" Sherlock asked.
"Oh trust me; I've only got one thing on my mind." Victor insisted with an innocent smile. Sherlock managed to smile back, but he didn't want this moment to end. He didn't want any of it to end.
"Last one there has to sit next to my dad." Sherlock decided at last, and then took off through the fields. The breath it took and the strength it took to run back to his house was nothing near the amount it had taken to get over the fact that Victor had kissed him. In the midst of running, hopelessly out matched at best, Sherlock had to stop and just go over everything that happened to make sure it wasn't only some beautiful dream. He needed to make sure, that before he came crashing into his kitchen, sweaty and winded, that he wasn't going to wake up. And then he started back up running. When he arrived at the door Victor had obviously beaten him there, the boy stood fanning himself next to the screen porch. It seemed impossible for someone to look so good while sweaty and out of breath, but Victor just seemed to be the master at breaking expectations. Sherlock almost wanted to pull him back into the fields, who needed dinner anyway? But he knew that his family was waiting for them, and if his father came stumbling through the darkness to find Sherlock and Victor kissing in the fields, well, there would be more than shattered beer bottles that's for sure.
"I beat you." Victor insisted.
"At everything." Sherlock agreed.
"Are you okay?" Victor asked as Sherlock tried to get some air flow through his shirt collar.
"Oh, just, peachy." Sherlock mumbled.
"I'm not sure I can say the same." Victor decided.
"What, you're, not happy?" Sherlock asked reluctantly, scared that he had someway disappointed Victor. Probably with his lack of romantic experience.
"More than happy actually." Victor decided, and with that he pulled open the shabby screen door and walked inside.