The One Next Door

Date Night With the Darling

"I'm still paying, right?" Sherlock asked.
"Whoever reaches for the bill first." John shrugged.
"John, it was delivery." Sherlock pointed out.
"Alright then, you paid, but that's beside the point." John insisted.
"Why?" Sherlock laughed.
"Do you know how hard it is to turn a dingy old flat into a five star couple's restaurant?" John asked.
"Not really, can't say I have much experience in that area." Sherlock admitted.
"Well, it's terrible. Especially when the special someone it only going to be out of the house for like, five minutes tops." John sighed, leading Sherlock into the dining room. Sherlock noticed that John made a real effort to make it look romantic; there were two tall candles on the table, and two of John's finest plates (one of which was plastic with a dull painted tractor on it). The music was skipping around a little bit, and Sherlock noticed that it was only one song on repeat, but with violin music a normal person wouldn't notice. Sherlock though, being an amateur violin player himself, noticed.
"Are those supposed to be rose petals?" Sherlock asked with a laugh, lifting up his foot to find a stepped on, dried out little red petal on the floor. There must've been fifteen in all, scattered about in clumps.
"I guess they don't sell them by the bag, there are only bouquets, so I had to shred the flowers, and they only have like, three big pedals, it's difficult." John insisted.
"It's the thought that counts, Romeo." Sherlock laughed, pressing a thankful kiss on top of John's head and sitting down in his seat.
"For our first and main course, we have a delectable world renounced culinary master piece, pepper steak." John said dramatically, pulling out a slightly leaking container of steak and a separate container of rice.
"Oh my, that is fancy." Sherlock decided, taking the container with a laugh. John dug out his chicken and rice, and put the two egg rolls in the middle on an old butter tray. Then he brought out a bottle of wine, running around the table and filling Sherlock's wine glass half way.
"I hope the wine is to your liking, we don't really have a wine list and only a fifteen dollar budget." John admitted.
"John, this is wonderful, honestly." Sherlock insisted, dumping the cube of rice on his plate and mashing it around on the plate.
"Well, I knew we needed some bonding time, and what better way to spend it than between a candle?" John asked.
"You look good in candle light, don't worry." Sherlock assured.
"You look radiant." John agreed, pouring out his rice and adding the chicken. Dudley sat on the floor in the middle of their feet, pawing aimlessly at their feet whenever they moved.
"So was Molly's night to herself deliberate?" Sherlock asked.
"No actually, I didn't really think about what I was going to do to get rid of her." John admitted.
"Do you feel like we're third wheeling her a little bit? I mean, I know she loves our relationship and all, but I feel bad." Sherlock sighed.
"She's got Tom, she'll be fine. And it's not like we're excluding her or anything, we're still the three musketeers." John insisted.
"That name is growing on me." Sherlock decided. John just laughed, digging around in his Chinese to spear some chicken.
"So, Sherlock how's your life?" John asked.
"It's hard on first dates when you know everything about the other person." Sherlock decided.
"I know hardly anything about you, I just tell myself I do." John pointed out.
"I don't know much about you either." Sherlock agreed. "Where'd you move here from?"
"My parent's house. I went there after college, they were very accepting, I suppose they had separation anxiety. Anyway, I worked hard and moved out to here." John shrugged. "How about you?"
"I moved here right after college, I had gotten an academic scholarship, so I had enough money to keep me afloat."
"So you're a super nerd?" John asked.
"I'm smart, but that doesn't seem to matter anymore. When you live the lowest you can live, no one really cares about your IQ." Sherlock sighed.
"We're not the lowest of the low Sherlock. We live a decent life, I mean; we're at a five star restaurant." John pointed out.
"Otherwise known as your kitchen." Sherlock pointed out.
"I know a very generous food critic." John admitted.
"So, what did you major in?" Sherlock asked.
"Business, minor in economics. I wanted to be a business man." John admitted.
"Why in the past tense?" Sherlock asked.
"Because I have no idea what I want to do in my life. Right now, only one thing seems to be clear." John admitted.
"And what is that?" Sherlock asked.
"I know that whatever happens in my life, I want you to be by my side." John insisted, and Sherlock blushed like a school girl.
"I'd love to be with you." Sherlock agreed, and John's beautiful eyes lit up in glee.
"So what did you major in? You and your academic scholarship." John decided.
"Mathematics, minor in psychology. I don't know where that will get me in life, but they seemed to be the best fit for me." Sherlock shrugged.
"Mathematics? Do you even love yourself?" John laughed.
"All my love goes to you." Sherlock insisted, and John laughed.
"These get worse and worse." He decided. Sherlock agreed with a small laugh, not daring to look up at John for dear that he would make fun of him. "So, college, always a fun place, not just for mathematics." John decided.
"Not really." Sherlock sighed.
"What, you've never been in a relationship?" John asked.
"Never." Sherlock admitted.
"With all that flirting you're supposed to have done, not one?" John asked, amazed.
"Could you not tell? I'm miserable at empathy, I'm terrible at connecting with another human being, and I'm a terrible kisser." Sherlock insisted.
"You're not terrible. Unexperienced I'd say, and I'd be willing to help change that." John decided. Sherlock made an inhuman squeaking sound and accidently kicked Dudley, who scampered out from under the table into the living room.
"Sorry." Sherlock muttered.
"You are honestly, the most adorable human being I've ever had the pleasure to lay my eyes on." John decided, and Sherlock just laughed some more.
"Is that a good thing?" Sherlock managed.
"That's a very good thing." John assured. Sherlock nodded, pretending to be very interested in his Chinese food and not making eye contact. He felt like if he looked at John he would blush so ferociously that his head would catch on fire.
"So, how about you, I know you said that I'm your first boyfriend, but how does that even happen? Like, how'd you, accept what you were feeling?" Sherlock asked.
"I knew from the beginning that you were something special. I knew from the way you stuttered and blushed when you were around me, I knew that those lingering looks across the coffee shop must have meant something. And as we got to know each other more, when I first saw you smile, heard you laugh, and something went off in my heart." John admitted.
"Did you ignore it, being that I'm a guy?" Sherlock asked.
"Why would I ignore what my heart was telling me?" John asked, looking genuinely confused.
"I did." Sherlock admitted.
"You were under pressure to feel something, Molly was pressuring you, Sarah was, I feel like you were making yourself deny it." John guessed.
"I'm happy I didn't for long." Sherlock decided.
"That painting, when you called my soul beautiful, I knew that was the moment, and it would've been. It really would've been perfect." John decided.
"It was perfect anyway." Sherlock assured.
"You slapped me. Twice." John pointed out.
"I was still trying to process." Sherlock defended.
"It's alright. In fact, if I hadn't been so flustered, I would've thought it was hilarious." John assured.
"You get flustered by me?" Sherlock asked, as if not daring to believe it.
"Oh yes, as much as you do by me. I'm just better at hiding it." John decided.
"What do you mean? I hid it for a month!" Sherlock pointed out.
"Well, not very well. Considering every time you said a single word to me, your cheeks would glow brighter than a light house. Not unlike what they're doing now." John pointed out.
"I'm sorry, I can't help it, I'm ghostly pale." Sherlock insisted.
"If it weren't a fire hazard, I would kiss you right now." John decided.
"Blushing can't cause a fire." Sherlock pointed out.
"I meant the candle." John laughed. Sherlock looked accusingly at the flickering candle in the middle of the candle, and just smiled slightly.
"Oh." Sherlock admitted, poking around at his rice for a little bit.
"You look nervous." John decided.
"I'm not nervous." Sherlock insisted.
"That's a lie, I'm nervous too." John assured.
"Nervous about what?" Sherlock asked with a laugh.
"I'm nervous about our conversation dwindling, I'm nervous that Molly will decide she actually wants to watch a movie, I'm afraid I'll get another phone call, I'm nervous that you're not as into me as I am." John admitted.
"You think I don't like you?" Sherlock muttered.
"I fear it." John decided.
"I do. I like you, so, so much, I love you infinitely." Sherlock assured.
"That's precisely what I wanted to hear." John decided. Sherlock smiled shyly, looking down at the white table cloth (with some mysterious stains) in flattery. "I love you too, if you wanted to hear it again. Because I will say it, again, and again, and I'm not ashamed of it. I will hold your hand as we walk down the street, I will kiss you in public, I'll tell you how much I love you in the middle of the coffee shop. Society doesn't scare me, not anymore." John insisted.
"Being someone who's had society's views as their captor their whole life, I'd love to be as indifferent as you are, but I'm not. I feel like, if I dare express myself, if I dare be who I am, everyone who I thought was my friend would leave me. I'm afraid that the people I knew, the people I cared for, they'd think the wrong thing. Men, that I have acquainted myself with, would automatically think I love them, they'd fade away into uncomfortableness, and I'd just wish that I've never come out at all." Sherlock admitted.
"No offense Sherlock, but I'd say you had four friends, five if you include Carl. All five of those friends know exactly who you are, they're totally accepting of who you are, they love who you are. And one of them would love to be part of who you are." John admitted.
"You are part of me John; you're the only part that I actually like." Sherlock assured.
"Then you're not looking very hard then." John decided. "Because I look at you, and I see a genius, a beautiful man with a beautiful soul, and I want him to love himself as much as I love him."
"I think he'd find that a little bit difficult." Sherlock muttered.
"Maybe he needs to accept how much I love him in order to love himself more." John decided.
"I accept it. I know." Sherlock insisted.
"Can I prove it to you?" John asked. Sherlock muttered something that didn't sound like English, and was back to gaping like a fish.
"I...um, certainly." Sherlock agreed. John smiled comfortingly, getting out of his chair and helping Sherlock to his shaking feet.
"You look scared." John decided.
"I am scared." Sherlock agreed.
"Don't be." John assured, wrapping his arms around Sherlock's neck and leaning very close. "Because I know that you're fragile. And I will not break you." He ended his sentence with a kiss, a soft, gentle kiss, so that Sherlock knew that he was safe and he would remain that way.
"I know." Sherlock agreed, kissing John back just as gently. John smiled slightly, his beautiful eyes reflecting the flickering candlelight on the table. Sherlock knew, of course, as the kiss continued on, that John would never be dangerous to him. John loved him, and he loved John, and why would either of them hurt the other? It seemed apparent to Sherlock that as soon as their lips met, their souls met as well, and they joined together and acted as one, and if one was hurt, the other felt the pain equally. So why, if someone shared such a soul, would the other purposely hurt their counterpart? They wouldn't, John wouldn't, he would love him and he would cherish him and he would be gentle, because Sherlock was indeed fragile, and it seemed that John was going to be the one to make sure he never breaks. The two of them ended up curled up together on the couch, Sherlock's head leaning on John's chest, his long legs hanging over the other end of the couch. The TV was flicking colors and sounds across the darkened room, but neither of them were paying much attention. John was slowly running his fingers through Sherlock's hair, a new hobby of his apparently, and Sherlock was slowly dozing off, his eat right over John's heart. Dudley was curled in a little ball on the floor, his head in his paws and a drizzle of slobber going back and forth across the hardwood floor as he took deep breaths.
"Someone's tired." John observed softly, and Sherlock smiled sleepily.
"Long day I suppose." Sherlock shrugged.
"We didn't do anything." John laughed.
"Well then, it was a long day of doing nothing." Sherlock admitted.
"Fair enough." John sighed. He looked over at the clock, 10:38. It was getting late, and the two of them would be expected to wake up at six o'clock as usual.
"So, do you want to go back over to your apartment, or do you want to stay here?" John asked.
"Will you come with me?" Sherlock asked.
"I don't feel much like moving." John admitted.
"Then I'll stay here with you." Sherlock decided.
"I like that choice." John agreed, wrapping his arms protectively around Sherlock and pressing a kiss to the top of his head. "I like all the choices we've made so far." He admitted.
"So do I." Sherlock agreed.
"And I like you most of all." John decided. Sherlock just laughed shyly, snuggling deeper into John's arms.
"And I love you most of all." Sherlock agreed.
"Then we're even then." John decided.
"Yes, I suppose we are." Sherlock agreed. They were silent for a little while, and John clicked off the TV, leaving the room in darkness as their eyes adjusted.
"Good night Sherlock." John decided.
"Good night John." Sherlock agreed, closing his eyes a letting himself melt into John more and more, until finally he was asleep.