He Loves Me, He Loves Me Not

Flowerbed Flirtation

    The next morning John was thrilled to wake up and have a bowl of cereal, something that had been rare since the move. Something as simple as Shredded Wheat tasted an awful lot like his old life; something about it reminded him of when things were happy and normal. For some reason he woke up rather early, laying alone in his bed and staring at the ceiling as the sun rose. When his alarm clock finally went off, John had headed downstairs to sit at the counter and eat his cereal, staring blankly at the fridge in front of him without really processing what he was seeing. All this Hamish was saying about he and Sherlock, it was preposterous, wasn't it? They had just known each other for one day, it wasn't like they were in love or anything, it wasn't like John was obsessed. Sherlock was a nice guy and John was making friendly conversation, he wasn't looking at Sherlock any differently than he was when he talked to Molly or Mrs. Hudson, he was being friendly, and that was what friendly looked like. John had a lot to do today, from packing to getting Hamish's school work ready to starting his career search, it was all very tedious. He rather wished he had a wife right now, to help with all of this childcare. In fact, even Sherlock would do in this situation. Maybe if he wasn't busy John would ask him if he would like to help unpack, or would that be weird? Honestly John had no idea anymore, was he pushing the boundaries of Sherlock's generosity, was he being too aggressive in accepting free help? Maybe he should add some sort of money, maybe he should offer five dollars an hour to help unpack. Sherlock would refuse it, of course, but John could just slip it into his pocket or something as he was leaving. Then again, Hamish would get all suspicious; blame John for just wanting to spend time with Sherlock, what a preposterous idea! So John just finished his cereal rather moodily, washing his bowl and lumbering back up to get dressed. When he had just pulled on his tee shirt he noticed Sherlock's truck in Mrs. Turner's yard, no Sherlock to be seen. John walked over to the window curiously, looking around to see if he could possibly spot the gardener wandering around the yard or something. But alas, the only evidence that Sherlock was even there was his truck, and that didn't satisfy John very much. So he walked back downstairs and wrestled with the WIFI router until Hamish finally woke up. It took John a while, but finally he figured out how to change the password and pay the fees and all of that, so finally he was able to get his laptop working properly.
"Good morning daddy." Hamish mumbled, walking into the kitchen in his blue pajamas and rubbing his eyes sleepily.
"Good morning Hamish." John agreed with a smile, browsing through the local job listings on the couch.
"What are you looking at?" Hamish wondered, pouring himself a bowl of Captain Crunch and clumsily pouring milk as well, until all the little squares floated to the top.
"Job listings, very exciting." John said with a laugh.
"Is Mr. Sherlock coming over today?" Hamish wondered.
"I don't know. If he does show up though I might ask for some help unpacking." John decided, looking down at his computer screen as if he didn't notice the excited look on Hamish's face.
"I hope he brings Redbeard." He decided, walking over to the other end of the couch and turning on cartoons. John sighed, not able to pay attention to boring adult work when fun children's cartoons were on, so he shut his laptop and watched Coyote get outsmarted by Roadrunner over and over again until it all seemed very repetitive. John could understand what the Coyote felt like to be honest, trying so hard to catch up to his life and just when he thought he had it; it stuck a stick of dynamite up his nose. Mary was probably that stick of dynamite, and John wondered what on earth he had done to deserve such a traitorous woman as his wife.
"We're going to go look at your school today." John pointed out with a smile, and Hamish just groaned.
"Do I really have to?" he mumbled. "I like staying here with you, it's a lot more fun than sitting in a stuffy old classroom with kids I don't like."
"Well this is your chance to start over. Maybe this year you can be one of the popular kids, make a whole group of friends, find a girlfriend." John insisted, raising his eyebrows in excitement.
"Ew daddy, that's gross. Besides, you're the one that needs to find a girlfriend, not me." Hamish insisted. John gasped, pretending to be offended.
"Degraded by my own son, what a tragedy!" John exclaimed.
"I don't know what that means daddy." Hamish insisted, and with that he finished up his cereal and went to wash his bowl, leaving John on the couch to watch the Coyote fall off the cliff once more. John could sympathize with that, especially when he felt like he had done a cliff dive himself. After breakfast was finished John and Hamish both got dressed, making a point to look somewhat professional to make a good first impression on the school faculty members. He knew that they couldn't deny Hamish entry to their school, but it was always nice to know that they had a good idea for what they're dealing with before he arrived. John wasn't kidding about the starting over thing, to be honest when he was in school he would've loved to attend a different school and he was sure that Hamish would appreciate the opportunity. Hamish had friends in his old school but he wasn't overly popular, now he could come with a smile on his face and his hair neatly brushed and hopefully he could find a good group of friends. Hamish also played baseball, so John was going to have to find a little league team for him to join, just until he was old enough to play for the school.
"Are you about ready?" John called into Hamish's room, tapping on the closed door.
"Ya, almost!" Hamish agreed, and John heard what sounded like boxes being thrown around.
"Alright, I'll be downstairs then." John muttered, walking down the stairs and into the living room. John spent the rest of the time watching cartoons, now Bugs Bunny, and waited until Hamish was ready. In the end the school visit was the biggest waste of time John had ever experienced, and that was really saying something. The paperwork had already been filed and his classes already scheduled, the only thing they did was meet with one of the teachers and get a little tour of the school, and by the time they were finished John was leaning against one of the cement walls, his eye lids drooping in boredom. Thankfully Hamish thought it was interesting, he loved the art hanging on the walls, the poems stapled to some bulletin boards and the funny math posters hanging outside one of the rooms. All of this school stuff just brought terrible memories to John, the days where he was trapped in a classroom with twenty other jerks, it was just a nightmare. Thankfully Hamish's teacher seemed nice, and the tour guide was polite, so many it wasn't as pathetic as he had previously thought. After they left they stopped in town, eating outside at some sandwich shop and watching as the cars went by.
"So you liked it there then?" John asked, pulling the toothpicks out of his Italian sandwich and taking a bite. Hamish nodded, lettuce clinging to his lips as he munched on his own sandwich, his eyes wide in excitement.
"It was awesome, I can't wait to go!" he exclaimed.
"That's a very new attitude." John decided with a little laugh, picking at his kettle chips.
"Well I'm excited now, I kind of imagined it as dark and gloomy and depressing, like new schools on TV shows. But this one looks like fun, and my teacher seems cool." Hamish decided.
"Going to try to learn something this year?" John teased, and Hamish just shook his head passionately.
"You told me you don't learn anything until you get to fifth grade." He pointed out.
"Indeed you do not, but all of this is building a learning foundation. It all builds on itself, and soon you'll have a beautiful knowledge castle." John said dramatically, waving his arms through the air before going back to his delightful sandwich. As John was talking a man walked out with a brown bag, obviously taking his lunch to go, walking by their table but stopping with a rather big smile on his face.
"Hello!" he said enthusiastically, as if they had been friends forever. John stared at him blankly, as did Hamish, the father son judgement duo. The man was tall with graying hair but a youthful face, having a very handsome look to him even though he had a ridiculous childish grin stretched across his lips.
"Hello...sorry, who are you?" John muttered, looking over at Hamish as if he knew of this man.
"Oh, sorry, ya, Greg Lestrade, I think you just moved into my development." Greg said with a smile, holding out a hand to shake.
"Oh, yes, um, hello." John muttered, awkwardly wiping his oily hand on his napkin before awkwardly shaking Greg's hand.
"I'm aware we haven't formally met, but I saw you unpacking yesterday with Mrs. Hudson's gardener." Greg pointed out.
"Spying on me then?" John asked with a little smile, and Hamish sniggered in his seat, crunching down another potato chip.
"Just being respectfully curious." Greg corrected, nodding as if that sounded innocent enough.
"Fair enough." John agreed.
"And this must be your son then?" he asked, patting Hamish on the head as if he were some sort of pet. Hamish smiled though, even though this was a very unusual way of greeting.
"Ya, that's Hamish, my side kick. We're just checking out the school, he'll be going tomorrow." John agreed.
"I'm going into third grade!" Hamish said proudly.
"Really? You look so much younger than that." Greg decided, and Hamish frowned, looking rather offended. "But like...in a good way. I always looked older than what I was and look at me now, not even thirty five and I've got grey hair." Thankfully that made Hamish laugh, and all seemed to be forgiven.
"Well I'm looking for a job around here; know any hospitals or doctor's offices that might be hiring?" John wondered, deciding to use this local to his advantage. Greg sighed, looking rather thoughtful for a moment before shaking his head.
"Not really, sorry mate. Then again, I'm not really the classified section; you could always look online though. I think there's a little doctor's clinic in town somewhere, you could stop by and ask for an application." Greg suggested. John nodded, craning his neck to see where Greg might be talking about.
"It's a ways down there, can't see it from here." Greg pointed out, and John nodded, feeling rather foolish.
"Maybe I'll stop by tomorrow when Hamish is in school." John decided, and Hamish swung his feet excitedly under the table.
"Well, I'll let you two eat but if you ever want to hang out I'm two houses down to the left." Greg decided.
"Alright, it would be nice to make some friends around here." John decided.
"But whatever you do, don't go to the house right next door, that's Mrs. Turner's house, and she's a nightmare." Greg warned. Hamish looked rather scared while John was intrigued, wondering what he could do to set this Mrs. Turner loose.
"Why is she so bad?" he wondered, and Greg made a face of pure disgust.
"Oh dear, she yells and yells and yells. If you're playing music too loud, or vacuuming too long, or your yard doesn't look nice enough she'll come and knock on your door and complain. So stay on that woman's good side." Greg warned.
"I'll keep it in mind." John agreed, happy that Greg had told him all of this before he got a stereo system.
"Is she a witch?" Hamish wondered, looking as if this were a legitimate question.
"Oh yes, definitely." Greg agreed, and Hamish's eyes widened in fear. "Well then, I'll see you crazy kids later." And with that Greg walked off, his bagged lunch swinging innocently beside him as he whistled some very off key tune.
"Is there really a witch living next door?" Hamish asked fearfully, and John just laughed, shaking his head reassuringly.
"No Hamish, I think Greg's just trying to scare you." John decided with a laugh, but Hamish didn't look too convinced. John just shrugged it off, finishing off the last of his sandwich before throwing out their trash and heading home. When they arrived at home, Hamish scrambled upstairs to start unpacking all of his toys, dispersing everything on top of his dresser and in his toy bins and making an even bigger mess than which he had started with. John, however, headed downstairs to unpack the kitchen. He wanted a home cooked meal tonight, and to do that he needed to know where his pots and pans were in this big mess of boxes. So John very inconspicuously went outside to go check the mailbox, happily shopping Sherlock's ugly white truck sitting in Mrs. Hudson's driveway. The mailbox wasn't far, and John was sure no one had anything to send him anyway, but he checked all the same. In reality it wasn't mail he was out here to look for; it was a certain gardener that might want to help him unpack. John was just heading in when he heard a very excited bark, and Redbeard came racing down the freshly mowed lawn, his beautiful red coat gleaming in the sunlight. 

"Hi Redbeard!" John said happily, dropping to his knees and stopping the incoming dog as it ran at him. John pet him rather aggressively, but Redbeard seemed to like it, his tail wagging furiously as he tried to lick John's face.
"Redbeard come back, Redbeard!" Sherlock's voice carried over the lawn, and both john and Redbeard paused to watch him coming from around the back of the house, a trowel in his hands and potting soil spilled all over his shirt. Redbeard's tail wagged harder, and John stood back up, letting the dog run back to his owner.
"Trying to steal my dog?" Sherlock wondered with a smile, scratching Redbeard's ears and continuing across the road.
"No, I was trying to see if I had any mail when your psychopath dog got excited." John assured, and Redbeard just looked up at him innocently, his brown eyes gleaming with intelligence.
"He's not a psychopath, more like...a dog." Sherlock decided, not seeming to find the right string of words to describe Redbeard's unique puppy personality.
"You look like you're working with soil today." John guessed, observing the dirt spread over Sherlock's clothes. Sherlock looked down, as if just noticing the mess he had made, and grinned rather guiltily.
"Weeding a bit aggressively I suppose." He decided with a shrug, as if he were used to this mess by now.
"What would Mrs. Hudson do without you?" John wondered with a laugh.
"Well, her flowerbeds would probably be a disaster. She just got that hip replacement and bending over has been a challenge." Sherlock admitted. "But I was thinking about what I could do for your house."
"For my house, what's wrong with my house?" John asked, turning to see the ugly barren flowerbeds and the weeds growing almost as tall as the windows.
"I hope that's a rhetorical question." Sherlock muttered, and John just shrugged, looking back over at Sherlock.
"Alright, so maybe it's not the nicest of houses, but I could definitely use some help." John decided.
"Well I'll do whatever you want, and I don't charge that much either." Sherlock assured, smiling proudly at the promise of another customer.
"I'll consider it, once my job gets where I want it to be." John decided.
"Oh really, what are you doing?" Sherlock wondered.
"Nothing, for now." John admitted with a rather guilty shrug.
"Well you just moved here, I wouldn't expect you to already know what career you're pursuing." Sherlock assured.
"It's been a bit of a mess around here, but we're working on it." John assured.
"Unpacking to do I'm sure." Sherlock decided, letting Redbeard roam around the yard and mark his territory on the flower beds. John didn't notice however, he was very concentrated on whatever Sherlock had to say next.
"Unpacking, ya, that's what I was actually just doing." John agreed.
"I'd be happy to help once I'm done weeding." Sherlock offered.
"Oh no, you've done too much already." John assured, shaking his head but hoping Sherlock would insist.
"Oh no, Mr. Watson, I insist." He said, and John smiled in success.
"Alright, but you'll have to make me a deal." He decided.
"What's that?" Sherlock wondered, crossing his arms and squinting suspiciously.
"I'll let you help as long as you agree to stay for dinner." John decided.
"And here I thought there would be a drawback." Sherlock agreed with a little laugh.
"So that's a yes?" John wondered, and Sherlock nodded.
"Yes, of course, but you'll have to let me run back home, make myself look presentable." Sherlock insisted.
"Fair enough, I guess I can't have you dragging half of Mrs. Hudson's flower beds through my house." John agreed, and Sherlock smiled rather guiltily.
"Give me an hour Mr. Watson, and then I'll be over." Sherlock said with a smile.
"Oh, and one more condition." John decided, looking Sherlock in his beautiful eyes determinedly.
"What might that be?" Sherlock wondered.
"Stop calling me Mr. Watson." John added, and Sherlock just laughed.
"No promises...John." he agreed, and with that he walked off back across the street with a newfound skip in his step, as if he was as excited for this dinner date as John was.