Faults of the Fallen - Sequel to Impossible

Chapter seven

John:

As class was nearing an end, I found myself more and more excited. I wanted to see Sherlock. I wanted to finally ask him the question I'd been debating over all day. If I'm honest, he'd probably reply with a laugh, or look at me, as if expecting me to yell "April Fool's" despite it being mid-September, but none of that mattered. I needed to ask, and, knowing Sherlock,made probably have made plans to read all night, while everyone else was having fun.

At the very least, he could come as a friend.

Still, my stomach fluttered with each step, and the hallways seemed longer than usual, as I took the steps towards the great hall.

"Hey, Johnny" Sirius interrupted my thoughts by pouncing on me like a dog.

"Just John" I corrected. He rolled his eyes and laughed.

"You look nervous. You realise we have ages until the exams, right?" James joined in.

"And knowing you, you'll ace them anyway" Sirius added.

"Thanks for that" I muttered "and I'm not nervous about exams"

"What? Finally gonna ask a girl out?" Sirius laughed.

"If it's Evans, I'll kill you" James threatened jokingly.

"Nah. Just nervous about stuff in general" I lied "now, if you'll excuse me, I have to talk to Sherlock"

"What? Holmes? Why you're friends with him, I'll never know" James scoffed, but they moved away, probably to go and pick on some poor bastard.

I saw Sherlock enter, his robes flowing behind him as he stepped, which made every entrance look grand, and felt glued to the floor. I hadn't thought it through until now. If this goes wrong, I could risk losing him as a friend, leaving absolutely no chance for a further relationship. I tried to step, but a small voice in the back of my head stopped me.

He'll say no. You know that. It taunted me. He doesn't want to go to the dance with anyone. And if he did, why you? What makes you so special.

I was suddenly paralysed with fear. I didn't understand why everything could suddenly turn around but I didn't want to take another step.

I glanced up at Sherlock, with his perfect features glistening in the light, and his pale skin making him appear to glow in comparison to the others, and took a deep breath. If I would do this, there'd be no regrets, no fear. I would just go, and ask. Suck it up.

My mum always used to tell me that it only took a small burst of courage. Thirty seconds of the strongest courage you can muster. I was placed in Gryffindor for a reason. Courage should come naturally. But then I felt it. A small glow inside me. I could do anything. Asking my best friend out? Easy.

I stepped confidently towards him and stopped right in front of him.

"Hey" I greeted.

"You look happy" he commented "someone ask you out?"

He seemed almost disappointed as he said that.

"Not exactly." I sat down beside him. "Uh, Sherlock, you know the dance?"

He nodded.

"Well, I was wondering if, well if you don't have anyone going with you, if you'd like to go with me? As a..." I trailed off.

"Date?" He finished. He had his usual tone, which meant that I had no clue what he was thinking.

"Uh yeah. As a date" I finished. I felt the courage I'd used drain out of me, and I clenched onto the chair as I awaited an answer.

"Funny thing is, John" he explained "I was thinking about this in potions, and, well..." He reached into his pocket and handed me a scrunched up scrunched up ball of paper.

"Open it" he commanded. I slowly tried to unravel the paper into its original form, and inside it was a note.

As I read, feeling returned to me. I felt myself breathe again, and I was certain I was going to be visibly blushing. Yes. He said yes. In his own special way.

"Thank you" I choked out.

"I wouldn't have given the note if you hadn't asked. This is your doing" he laughed.

"But you... You agreed" I stuttered. He thought for a second and nodded.

"Why are you excited. Shouldn't it be me? I mean, I was just asked out by the only person I've actually felt anything towards" he smirked.

There was a brief moment of ridiculously cheesy staring each other before Sherlock cleared his throat and suggested lunch, passing a bowl of potatoes to me.