I Never Do

A Lesson in Love

After Sherlock was returned home from John's house the following morning, he spent all day smiling.

"What's got you all happy?" Mycroft teased.

"John Watson," Sherlock replied.

Mycroft raised a brow. "Oh?"

"Mhm. He's amazing. We spent the entire night watching James Bond. He does what you do, except you don't do any of the action parts," Sherlock snickered.

Mycroft wanted to roll his eyes, but he couldn't bring himself to do so, so he smirked instead.

"Well, I am happy that you had a nice time."

Sherlock grinned and blushed faintly.

"My . . . can I ask you something personal?"

Mycroft straitened himself. "Of course."

Sherlock looked away and began to wring his hands together, nervous and scared of what his brother might say.

"I think I might . . . I think that . . ."

He couldn't bring himself to say it.

Mycroft smiled softly at his baby brother.

"I know," he said. "I've known the moment you couldn't stop talking about him."

"But what if mummy and father don't . . . what if they stop loving me? That's what this one kid said happens to people who aren't normal; and what if John stops being my friend?" Sherlock couldn't help the tears that escaped his eyes.

Mycroft frowned. "Forget what those imbeciles said. It is completely normal, and believe it or not, I know what you're going through. As for John, I can't tell you what might happen on that front. I'm sorry."

Sherlock gasped. "You?"

Mycroft nodded. "I had a crush on a boy at school. Mummy and father knew, of course, and they don't care. All they care about is that we're happy."

"But John . . . " Sherlock's frown deepened.

"Wait for the right moment to tell him. It's still a bit early into your friendship, so he may not take it well. It may be months, it may be years. All I can tell you is that you need to do what you feel in your heart is right."

"You're right. I'll wait. I don't know for how long, maybe forever. I just don't want to lose John."

Mycroft nodded and the conversation ended.

"Thanks, My."

"Any time, Sherlock."

"Boys, dinner is ready!"

They stood together and made their way into the dining room to eat.

Their mother set the table before taking her seat alongside their father.

"So Sherlock, how was your night at John's?"

Sherlock looked over at his mother and grinned. "Brilliant."

"Oh? What did the two of you do?"

"We watched these James Bond films - terribly dull by the way, but I endured it for John's sake - and we shared cake."

"Sounds like you had fun, then?" his father asked.

Sherlock finished chewing and swallowed before responding.

"I had the best time," he chirped.

After their meal was over, Sherlock asked if he could talk to them privately. His father led the way into his office and the three of them sat down. Sherlock stood in front of them, arms crossed.

"Mummy, father -" he cleared his throat, "would you still love me if I - if I liked boys?"

His mother tsked. "Of course, sweetheart! You're my baby, I'll always love you no matter what."

His father pulled him closer so that he stood toe to toe with him.

"Sherlock, you could like boys, you could like girls, or you could like both, or you could like none. Either way, you will always be loved. Do you understand?"

Sherlock, by that point, had begun to cry.

"Oh, love," his mother said softly before pulling the two of them into a crushing hug.

"You like John, don't you?"

Sherlock nodded slightly. "More than anything else I've ever liked. But I don't - I don't want to lose him. I don't know if he feels the same, or if he's even like . . . this."

"Baby, even if he's not, that's okay. It's going to hurt, of course, no doubt about that. But it's not the end of the world."

Sherlock frowned. "It is for me," he whispered. "John is my only friend. He's the only one who bothered talking to me at school. He's the only one to stand up for me. He's the only one that even bothered to try and understand me, outside of family. He's everything to me."

His mother wiped at her eyes. "I remember falling in love," she grinned.

"Love?" Sherlock asked.

"Yes, love," his mother giggled softly. "You're in love, dear."

"Is that what this is?"

His mother looked at his father and nodded.

"I don't like it. It hurts."

"I know, baby. I know."