The One Next Door

Highway To Hell

    That week seemed to go very quickly, with Christmas rapidly approaching and his mother's phone calls coming daily, it was as if he couldn't escape the inevitable hell that was his parent's house. Sherlock dreaded it, of course. There seemed to be no better torture than to force him to spend time with other family members, to interact. John, on the other hand, seemed to be especially merry. He wore a Santa hat to the coffee shop every day, and hummed Christmas music while he made sandwiches or took the dog out. As adorable as it was, Sherlock couldn't help but cringe every time he heard the sound of sleigh bells or carolers singing We Wish You a Merry Christmas. In his opinion, Christmas had only one purpose, getting off of work, and presents. On Friday, Christmas Eve day, Sherlock woke up in a small panic, looking at the clock and realizing it was seven already.
"John, we're late!" Sherlock exclaimed, scrambling to get out of the tangle of blankets.
"We took off, get back here." John insisted, grabbing Sherlock's arm and pulling him back down.
"Oh...right." Sherlock agreed, laying back down on his pillow and pulling the blankets back up to his head.
"Merry Christmas Eve." John decided.
"No, there's nothing merry about today. Today is when we take the highway to hell." Sherlock insisted.
"Do you even have a car?" John asked.
"Good point." Sherlock agreed.
"You're lucky I do." John decided.
"You have a car?" Sherlock asked in shock.
"Ya, out back, Moran let me park it there." John shrugged.
"Now that I think of it, Mycroft always picked me up..." Sherlock muttered.
"Good thing we're avoiding that." John decided.
"Ya, that would be a rather forceful interaction." Sherlock sighed.
"Did you pack yet?" John asked.
"I have like, three outfits; I can jam it all in a bag." Sherlock insisted.
"Just making sure. I didn't know what you wanted me to take, I'm still debating on whether or not to bring my suit..." John sighed.
"Don't bring a suit. Pack a nice dress shirt and pants, because if Uncle Rick comes then we're going to church and you'll need to dress up. If not, my parents usually make an exception if we promise to say the Rosary or something like that." Sherlock shrugged.
"Well, I've already packed all of my nice clothes. Don't want your parents to think I'm a slob." John assured.
"You're not nervous?" Sherlock asked.
"A little bit, but I know that you've got my back." John shrugged.
"I do, always. I'd take a bullet for you." Sherlock insisted. John just laughed, shaking his head a little bit.
"I don't think you'll ever have a chance to prove that." John decided.
"I really hope I don't have to prove it." Sherlock agreed. "But if you're ever the target of some secret CIA assassin, I've got your back."
"I'm sure you do." John agreed, leaning over and giving Sherlock a soft kiss. "But we should get going, I also don't want your parents to think I'm late."
"I'm involved, of course we'll be late. I try not to get there until after one, because then we don't have to eat lunch with them." Sherlock decided.
"Get packed Sherlock, we'll be there at eleven." John insisted.
"Eleven? You honestly think it's a good idea to show up two hours early?" Sherlock asked as John got up, pulling on his robe and throwing Sherlock the old extra one he had for some reason. It was a little bit tight, but managed to keep Sherlock nice and snuggly in the morning.
"We don't have to leave yet, I mean, we can just stay here..." Sherlock sighed.
"I want you to make me some coffee." John decided.
"But you don't have a machine!" Sherlock insisted.
"Yes I do, an ancient one my parents got me, but it works." John decided.
"And you probably don't have beans." Sherlock pointed out.
"I've got that powder stuff, a lot worse, but you know, I'm not going to spend all that money on something I can buy for two bucks down at the shop." John shrugged.
"I don't want to, it's my day off." Sherlock whined.
"No it's not, your most important job starts today." John insisted.
"And what's that?" Sherlock snapped as John walked out into the apartment.
"Being a good son!" John yelled.
"I've already quit that job!" Sherlock called back. There was no response, and Sherlock could only assume John had taken Dudley out. So he crawled out of bed, tying John's ratty old robe on and stumbled into the kitchen. As promised, there was a rusty looking coffee machine sitting on the counter, maybe used twice by the wear and tear, and a small container of medium roast bean powder. Sherlock groaned, but started on the coffee, stirring the powder in and putting it on the coffee maker to brew. When John returned, he let Dudley lose, the dog running over to where Sherlock stood and pouncing on him.
"Hi Dudley, it's nice to see you too." Sherlock decided.
"I'll make some eggs, how does that sound?" John asked.
"Nasty, you can't possibly be a good cook." Sherlock insisted.
"Don't think I'm a good cook, huh? I'll just have you know that my mom taught me when I was little, I'll make you the best bloody omelet you've ever eaten." John decided.
"I'm fine with cereal, I'm sure my mom is going to order a personal omelet chief and pretend that it's normal. She loves impressing guests, and for my new girlfriend she's probably going to clean the ceiling." Sherlock guessed.
"You don't think she'll be disappointed? I mean, I don't really mind, but if she's so hyped on the idea of you having a girlfriend, do you think when I walk in she'll be upset?" John asked.
"Heck if I care. I think she'll be fine with the idea that I've actually got a significant other. It's my brother's criticism and my father's judgmental views and my uncle and his priesthood that worry me." Sherlock insisted.
"So that Uncle Rick is coming?" John asked.
"I hope not, but mom hasn't mentioned it." Sherlock shrugged.
"Well, if everything goes well, I'll have to meet him eventually." John decided, getting out a small saucepan and melting some butter in it.
"You mean at the wedding?" Sherlock asked with a little tease.
"I do." John agreed, and Sherlock just smiled, blushing like a flustered little tomato. Thankfully he didn't have to respond, because the coffee machine buzzed, making Dudley jump back three feet, an impressive distance for those little legs.
"Coffee's ready." Sherlock decided, unhooking the pot and pouring two steaming cups.
"Thanks love." John agreed.
"I really like that name." Sherlock decided with a smile, handing John his coffee.
"And I really like you." John agreed, giving Sherlock a quick kiss for good measure before going over to crack a couple of eggs into the pan.
"So, when have you been chief extraordinaire?" Sherlock asked.
"I don't live off takeout you know." John pointed out.
"I do. Bland sandwiches for lunch, takeout for dinner, it's a nice schedule, but it's usually interrupted when you two insist on feeding me." Sherlock sighed.
"It's not like we want to feed you, more like how you laze around our apartments and we're too polite to tell you to get out come lunch time." John insisted.
"Well, maybe you should laze around my apartment." Sherlock suggested.
"Your apartment smells weird, and the fact that my glowing face is immortalized in your living room kind of gives me the creeps." John admitted.
"What, you want me to hang it over here?" Sherlock asked.
"No, I want you to have it of course, I just don't like looking up and to see myself looking back." John admitted, and Sherlock laughed.
"I like it." Sherlock decided.
"That's because you're creepy." John laughed, chopping up some parsley and cheese and throwing it into the egg.
"You just happened to have parsley in your fridge?" Sherlock asked.
"A master chief is always prepared." John insisted. Sherlock groaned, going over to pat Dudley on the head while listening to the egg sizzle in the pan. Even though Sherlock liked the dog's company, he didn't really feel like getting bathed in slobber, so he went over and gave John a hug from behind, leaning his head sleepily on his shoulder and looking in on how their breakfast was doing.
"You seem to know what you're doing." Sherlock observed.
"I do, yes." John agreed as he grabbed a plate and flipped the omelet onto the plate. "Your breakfast is served." He decided, handing Sherlock the plate of eggs with a smile.
"I should make you one." Sherlock decided, unraveling his arms from John and taking the plate with a thankful smile.
"I feel like you'd poison it." John insisted. "I'm fine with cereal."
"No, come on, let's share this then." Sherlock debated.
"It's yours, I made it for you. Besides, I've still got to pack and I don't have much time to make another." John insisted.
"John, if you don't share this omelet with me, I'm going to insist my mother gives you colon pills, and every time you go to the bathroom, I'm going to play loud music and pretend like I'm covering up for embarrassing noises." Sherlock warned. John sighed, a guilty smile on his face, but he grabbed another fork and sawed off the other end of the omelet.
"You're good a threats." He decided as they both took their first bite.
"This is amazing!" Sherlock exclaimed, shocked that his own boyfriend could be Gordon Ramsey.
"You think so?" John asked, looking very proud.
"Of course I do! God, if I knew you could cook, I would've kissed you much sooner." Sherlock decided.
"No you wouldn't have." John insisted.
"I would've wanted to." Sherlock decided. When they had finished their delicious omelet, Sherlock insisted on washing the dishes while John packed the last couple of previsions.
"What are you doing with Dudley while we're gone?" Sherlock asked.
"Oh god, I didn't even think of that. Is Molly available?" John asked, his face falling as he saw the little bulldog slobbering mindlessly onto the floor.
"No, she's going away. I'll call my parents; ask if they're okay with it." Sherlock decided.
"It's no problem; I can find a kennel I guess..." John muttered, looking a little bit worried.
"Don't worry about it, my parents love dogs, but they're too busy for a pet. They're too busy babying me and my brother to bother with taking care of another inferior life form." Sherlock assured.
"Well, if you're sure..." John muttered.
"I'm sure." Sherlock insisted, going over to the nightstand a retrieving his phone. He reluctantly called his parents, and it wasn't a shock when the phone didn't even ring once before they picked it up.
"Sherlock!" Mrs. Holmes said happily.
"Hi mom. Hey, we just remembered that my...girlfriend (he had to practically choke out the word) has a bulldog, and didn't make any reservations to get it cared for." Sherlock sighed.
"What about Molly, she's a good pet sitter." Mrs. Holmes suggested.
"She's going up to her parents' house too." Sherlock sighed.
"What's she doing with that cat?" Mrs. Holmes asked. She and the rest of the Holmes family seemed to be the only people that Hell Spawn had a problem with it, and she had taken great offense when the cat had scratched as she tried to give it a pat hello.
"Drowning it, hopefully." Sherlock shrugged. Mrs. Holmes sighed, but her silence meant she agreed.
"I'd love to have a dog, it'll be fine. Just bring all the supplies, because we don't have a leash or anything over here." Mrs. Holmes decided.
"Ya, he's got a leash." Sherlock assured.
"Who does?" Mrs. Holmes asked. John laughed, but Sherlock went kind of rigid.
"The dog, the dog has a leash." Sherlock corrected.
"Oh, okay. What time should I expect you?" she asked.
"We're coming around eleven, she feels like we shouldn't skip lunch." Sherlock sighed.
"That makes me sound like I'm needy!" John snapped.
"Is Mikey picking you up?" Mrs. Holmes asked.
"No, she's got a car." Sherlock shrugged.
"Ooh, a first class civilian?" Mrs. Holmes asked hopefully.
"Far from it. Goodbye mother, I'll see you at eleven." Sherlock decided, and hung up.
"I'm not far from a high class citizen." John snapped.
"In my mind you are, let's get going." Sherlock decided.
"Get packed, I'll meet you here." John agreed.
"See you in about ten minutes." Sherlock decided.
"Try to pack a lot; I don't want you wearing the same two outfits on repeat." John insisted.
"Who do you think I am?" Sherlock laughed, and with that he turned and walked out of the door. It took him less than ten minutes. All he had to do was empty what little he had in his drawers into his suitcase, adding his toothbrushes and what not. Then he added a book or two, his phone charger, and a sketchpad in case he got bored. Then, when he finally got the zipper to close, he wheeled the bag over to John's. As promised, John had already packed, a neat little red suit case sitting in the middle of the floor. It was Dudley's bed, leash, bowls, and food that seemed to be giving him an issue.
"Should I pack this stuff in a separate suitcase?" John asked, trying to shove the big bag of dog treats into a smaller pocket.
"Nah, Molly's got a big grocery bag you can use." Sherlock decided.
"That sounds fine. Hey Dudley, want to go on a ride?" John asked. Dudley barked a little bit, wagging his tail and staying still for John to clip a leash on his collar.
"This is exciting; I've never taken anyone to my parent's house." Sherlock insisted as they started to wheel their suitcases out the door.
"I've never officially met anyone's parents, except for high school girlfriends, but then again, that was kind of mandatory." John shrugged.
"You and your high school girlfriends." Sherlock laughed.
"What was I even thinking?" John agreed. It was a little bit of work getting their bulging suitcases down the steps, especially with an over excited Dudley pulling on the leash. Sherlock was holding the bed and food, so he just kicked his suitcase down the stairs and balanced all of Dudley's previsions on his way down.
"What are you doing?" Molly exclaimed, thrusting her head out of the door to see who was making all the noise.
"Oh, hello Molly, just the woman we wanted to see." Sherlock decided.
"Sherlock, I'm the only female you know." Molly insisted.
"Wrong! I'm on my way to my mother's house right now." Sherlock pointed out, dropping all of Dudley's food on the ground with another bang.
"Mrs. Turner isn't going to like all this noise." Molly guessed.
"Well, too bad for Mrs. Turner." Sherlock decided.
"Ya, the old hag deserves it." John agreed.
"I thought you liked her?" Molly asked.
"Not since she judged Sherlock on his sexuality." John insisted with a frown.
"Yes, well, old ladies will be old ladies. Do you want a shopping bag for that?" Molly asked, looking at Dudley's food.
"Precisely what we were going to ask." Sherlock agreed. So, one shopping back decorated with roosters later, Sherlock and John said their farewells and moved down the stairwell, wheeling their suitcases and dragging Dudley along to John's car, which was parked in the side ally near the apartment building. It was an old clunker of a thing, painted red ages ago. Sherlock was almost worried that the engine wouldn't start.
"Maybe not as glamourous as your brother's car, but it's got satellite radio and seat warmers." John insisted.
"Sounds like a deal!" Sherlock said excitedly. John opened the trunk and shoved all of their suitcases in the back. They attempted to put Dudley in the back seat on his bed, but the moment Sherlock sat down in the passenger seat, the dog clambered over the arm rest and jumped around in his lap.
"Dudley loves the car." John admitted, turning the engine on with a terrifying roar.
"You sure this thing can go above twenty miles per hour?" Sherlock asked doubtfully.
"Oh don't worry, on a good day it can do 110." John said proudly, backing out of the driveway and into the street. Molly was looking out the window, waving to them as they went, and Sherlock fiddled with the radio, trying to find a good station. So they cruised down the highway, singing a variety of songs. John liked more rock music, so he led Sherlock in a sing along to Led Zeppelin and ACDC, while Sherlock turned on the pop hits and busted out every lyric to Taylor Swift. John thought Sherlock's music taste was the most hilarious thing in the world, but he Sherlock certainly showed him up by rapping perfectly to Iggy Azalea. Dudley just sat up on Sherlock's lap, looking out over the road and licking the window, as if that would help anything. Overall, it was an enjoyable ride, but it ended once they got into Sherlock's hometown.