He Loves Me, He Loves Me Not

Dinner and Delusions

    "Well I guess I should be off, lots to do." John decided with a sigh, frowning a little bit before nodding to Mrs. Hudson and starting to walk off.
"John, you be good to him you hear?" Mrs. Hudson insisted, making John turn in surprise.
"Good? I'm good." John assured.
"I know you're good John, just...he's fragile. That's all I'm going to say." Mrs. Hudson decided. John sighed heavily, staring at the corner of the house once more, worried that Sherlock might be eavesdropping.
"I'm not going to break his heart." John assured, the answer that he knew they were both looking for. Mrs. Hudson nodded in agreement, looking content with that answer.
"You better not John, for your sake." She warned. John just laughed, shaking his head and trying to make sure he wasn't blushing too heavily.
"I wouldn't dream of it Mrs. Hudson. Have a nice day!" he said with a smile, and with that he turned and walked across the street to his house, walking inside and setting the mugs onto the table. So Mrs. Hudson knew, of course she knew, that was no surprise really. It was more the fact that she was tell John that she knew that surprised him, honestly she struck John as the type of person to only bring something up once she's been proven right. Unless she's corresponding with Molly, which is highly probable considering she was the neighborhood's designated mother. So maybe she already knew that they had shared intentions, maybe she even heard the story from Sherlock himself. Maybe while John talked to Molly, Sherlock talked to Mrs. Hudson, ranting on about his relationship issues to the only person he knew would understand. Maybe that's why Mrs. Hudson seems like she knows everything, because she does. John finished up the last of his application on the couch, watching some of Hamish's cartoons that he had left on. Honestly John didn't mind some of them; in fact they were a rather guilty pleasure of his. Once he finished off the last line, skimming over the whole application to make sure there were no errors, he walked upstairs to get all dressed up, picking out slacks, a nice button down shirt and a jacket. He wanted to look good enough to make an impressive impression on those nasty secretaries in that creepy old hospital, maybe they'd hire him right on the spot. John checked his reflection in the mirror, making sure his hair was properly combed and his shirt was buttoned correctly before grabbing his application and walking out the door. If there was anything John didn't feel like doing right now it was driving all the way to that stupid hospital, but he knew it was necessary. When he finally arrived at the hospital he was relieved to see that there were actually cars in the parking lot, so it told him that someone other than the two batty old secretaries were in today. It astounded him that a hospital could be so deserted; it either meant that there were no injuries in this town or that there was a better hospital somewhere else, somewhere that might even have a bigger paycheck. John carefully tucked his application and resume into a very professional looking brief case he had unearthed, checking his reflection in the rear view mirror and giving his most confident look. He looked professional to himself, so he could only hope the secretaries thought the same. So John got out of the car and marched into the building, head held high with a smile on his face. To no surprise it was the same two secretaries behind the desk, drinking coffee out of mugs decorated with kittens and typing aimlessly on big boxy computers.
"Hello." John said with a smile, and one of them looked up as if just realizing someone had walked into the building.
"Who are you?" she croaked, and the other one looked up with about as much interest as the first.
"My name is John Watson; I asked for an application a couple of days back and came to turn it in." John said with a smile.
"John...What son?" the second crow muttered, playing around with her hearing aid for a moment.
"Watson, John Watson." John corrected. This time it wasn't hard to keep a smile on his face, yet it was nearly impossible to stop himself from laughing.
"Application you say?" the first lady asked, her eye brows creasing in confusion.
"Yes, you gave it to me the other day." John pointed out.
"We're not hiring." The second croaked. Joh's heart sank, and for a moment his smile slipped.
"Yes we are!" the first insisted, twisting back to give an accusing look through her spectacles.
"No, we're not hiring, you told me that Dr. Thomas died, but he didn't, so we're not hiring." The second insisted.
"Dr. Thomas died?" the first secretary mumbled with a very confused look on her face.
"No you old bat! It's a wonder you're down here instead of the loony bin!" the second secretary screeched, throwing what looked like an eraser at her counterpart. John couldn't seem to laugh at that, however, because now he had no job opportunities. He had spent nearly a week filling out this stupid application, and to no extent.
"So...you're not hiring after all?" John clarified. Slowly both of the old ladies' attention turned back on him, and for a moment John felt very threatened, as if suddenly they would start attacking him with cats and knitting needles.
"Who are you?" the first one muttered.
"Alright, have a nice day ladies, hoping you even make it till then." John snapped, his smile dropping, his posture drooping, and a scowl plaster firmly on his lips. John marched out of the hospital and threw the brief case into the side of the car so aggressively that the car alarm. So then John was left in the parking lot trying to find his keys, the headlights flashing, the alarm going off, flailing around in his suit and tie with a look of utmost rage on his face.
"Oh bloody hell!" John screamed, finally managing to dig the keys out of his briefcase and unlock the cars. Finally he got the alarm to go off, a rather eerie silence settling over the parking lot as he threw his stuff into the backseat and started the engine. John really wanted to listen to some music, but as he flipped through the channels all he could hear was sad music, even in the form of heavy metal rock on the psycho station. So John just drove in silence, his teeth grinding together in rage as he drove down the highway. As he got closer to the town John got stuck at a stoplight, tapping his fingers rapidly against the steering wheel and fiddling with the air conditioner. But as he looked around, past the minivan filled with little kids and the pickup truck with mud splattered around the tires he saw a great big sign outside of the local grocery store- Now Hiring. John groaned, letting his head fall onto the steering wheel but he knew that this was probably his last chance to get employed. Even though he had a medical thingy he couldn't use it unless this Dr. Thomas drops dead, so until that day it seemed like John would have to be stuck working at a grocery store. When the light turned green John took a very illegal right turn from the wrong lane, causing all of the cars to start beeping and screeching out the windows, but John didn't necessarily care at the moment. Right now all he needed was money, not social approval. So one trip to the grocery store later John ended walking out with a bottle of whiskey, a package of Nutter Butters and popcorn for Hamish's sleepover, and an application. Not the most productive trip, but he was sure he could make it pay off in the end. When John was driving home he didn't notice the time, he didn't notice that he had skipped lunch and he definitely didn't notice that it was almost three thirty. So when his cell phone rang on the seat next to him, John thought it was just some stupid call from his parents or some telemarketers. It wasn't until he looked at the caller ID did he realize that Mrs. Hudson was calling. That either meant that Sherlock was looking for him, his house was on fire, or he hadn't mowed his lawn in a couple of days. Either way he didn't really want to hear it, but nevertheless he picked up his phone, trying to keep his eyes on the road at the same time. John was breaking a lot of traffic safety rules today.
"John where are you?" Mrs. Hudson asked on the other end, sounding very disappointed.
"I'm on the road, just left the grocery store, why?" John wondered, not particularly sure of the reason for this call.
"Well, I've got your son here, who just came knocking frantically on my door telling me his father wasn't home." Mrs. Hudson insisted.
"Oh my...oh my god it's three thirty!" John exclaimed, nearly dropping the phone in horror.
"Yes, it is, and you're not home." Mrs. Hudson agreed.
"Oh my god, I'm sorry, I'm job hunting, oh my god, just...hold on to him for a bit alright?" John muttered.
"We're on your porch right now dear, Sherlock's just about done with the sprinkler system, Hamish is helping him." Mrs. Hudson said with a sigh. Oh god, Sherlock...oh dear...
"Can you put Hamish on the phone please?" John asked politely. This day was going terribly, and at the moment John really wanted something to make it just a little bit better. And to do that, John knew precisely what he needed to do. But that all depended on how long Sherlock was stuck doing the sprinkler system, and to assure that he had a terribly difficult time John had to call upon the help of his greatest ally.
"Hi daddy." Hamish said, sounding perfectly happy despite all of Mrs. Hudson's dramatization.
"Hey buddy, are you alright?" John wondered, deciding to start this off with a little bit of small talk.
"I'm fine daddy; Mrs. Hudson gave me a cookie and Redbeard's here!" Hamish said excitedly.
"That's great, that's really great. Hey you know what, when I get home I've got a surprise for you." John said happily.
"A surprise?" Hamish asked excitedly, John could almost feel his curiosity over the phone.
"Ya, a surprise, but you're going to have to do something for me." John insisted.
"What's that?" Hamish wondered happily.
"I need you to make sure Sherlock stays until I get home, alright? But you have to be sneaky about it, don't let him leave but don't make it obvious." John insisted.
"What should I do?" Hamish wondered, sounding like a soldier asking for instructions.
"I don't know, that's up to you, just make sure he stays, alright?" John asked.
"Is he part of the surprise?" Hamish wondered.
"I don't know...it's a surprise." John teased.
"Oh come on daddy, I want to know!" Hamish insisted, and John just laughed, shaking his head.
"I'll see you when I get home." John decided.
"Alright, bye daddy." Hamish agreed.
"Bye Hamish, I love you." John agreed, and with that he hung up the phone, setting it on the seat beside him and pushing down on the gas pedal a little bit more. He had to get home, and he had to get home fast. Maybe this was a terrible idea, maybe it was the best idea he's ever had, either way John was nervous, because this one particular question could sprout so many answers, and he only wanted to hear one of them. Then again John already knew the answer, and he could only guess that Sherlock did as well. It was a very overdue question, with a very overdue answer, but they both knew it had to be asked one way or another. John was just going to have to be the bigger man, even if he had to stand on his toes to look that gardener in the eyes. When John finally pulled into the driveway he saw chaos, and only then did he regret telling Hamish to do anything it took to get Sherlock to stay. Obviously he had been attaching a sprinkling system, but something must have gone wrong, because right now Sherlock was running around the side of the house, completely drenched in water, with handfuls of towels and wrenches. Redbeard was running around at his heels, the usually red dog now looking a very odd shade of brown from having rolled in all of the mud that was being created. Sherlock took one look at the car and you could see the look of fear in his eyes, suddenly scrambling towards the house like he was going to get in trouble. Hamish and Mrs. Hudson were nowhere to be found, but as soon as john got out of the car he could see why Sherlock was so frantic. It looked like the hose had exploded, and the tap where it came out of the house was spewing water everywhere, making a huge water fall of water and mud.
"What on earth happened here?" John asked, running up to where Sherlock was trying to put towels over the open windows.
"I'm so sorry Mr. Watson, something happened, Hamish tripped over the spout and it won't shut off!" Sherlock exclaimed frantically, trying to block the tap with his thumb.
"No, it's not your fault...I can go shut off the water." John suggested. Sherlock looked up hopefully, his curls drenched with water and drooping into his face, making him looked so much more attractive it literally pained John to keep his eyes on him for long.
"Could you please?" Sherlock asked hopefully.
"Ya, one second, um...ya." John agreed, running through the sopping ground and into the house. It took him a moment to find the switches in the basement, but finally he pulled a very convincing looking lever and the pipes were still, the sound of running water finally ceasing throughout the house. John nodded happily, running back up the stairs to see Hamish and Mrs. Hudson sitting in the kitchen, both looking rather disheveled.
"Where have you been?" Mrs. Hudson wondered.
"Daddy I kicked the hose!" Hamish said proudly, swinging his legs off of his stool with a smile.
"No time for that now, business to attend to." John decided. "Nice job Hamish!" he called as he ran out the door.
"What business? You're unemployed!" Mrs. Hudson insisted, but John cut off her words when he shut the door. He could only hope they stayed inside and minded their own business. Sherlock was now trying to screw the hose back into the tap, but obviously the metal was bent and it wouldn't twist all the way. Sherlock looked very worried; obviously he had tried to dry his hair off with a towel because the curls were all sticking up in very odd directions, looking like the cutest most adorable little afro anyone could ever wear. His shirt was drenched and was sticking to his skin, something John could never complain about, but there was a frown on Sherlock's face as he saw John approaching.
"I'm so sorry Mr. Watson, I really am." Sherlock muttered frantically, as if worried he was going to lose his job.
"There's nothing to apologize for, Hamish admitted that it was his fault, you did the best that you could." John assured, and he could tell Sherlock could breathe easier after he had said that. Sherlock got to his feet, pushing the wet curls out of his face and wiping some water from his forehead, making John momentarily lose all train of thought. His legs were numb with nervousness but he knew this had to be done, it seemed to be the perfect time too, Sherlock was so apologetic at the moment that he would agree to anything.
"Why are you staring at me?" Sherlock wondered, and John blinked guiltily.
"Staring, I'm not staring at you, no there's a bird...in the tree behind your head." John muttered very quickly, suddenly feeling his cheeks heat up once more.
"I don't see a bird." Sherlock admitted, looking over his shoulder curiously.
"I need to ask you something." John said very quickly, and Sherlock looked back over at him with a look of fear in his eyes. Maybe not fear, maybe curiosity...maybe hope.
"Ask me something? What could you possibly need to ask me?" Sherlock wondered.
"Well, I want the truth." John muttered.
"I'm very much inclined to give you the truth, but first I need the question." Sherlock pointed out, sounding rather nervous, as if this was going to be a very harsh question.
"Am I delirious?" John wondered.
"It all depends on your definition of sane." Sherlock decided. John just nodded, stuffing his hands rather awkwardly in his pockets yet staring Sherlock right in the eyes.
"Sherlock, do you want to go out to dinner with me tomorrow night?" John said very quickly, and for a second he could see Sherlock's eyes expand, looking as if he were hit with some sort of club. There was silence, and for a moment both of their cheeks burned but they couldn't seem to drop eye contact, the greens and blues in Sherlock's irises seeming to engulf John completely.
"Dinner? Dinner as in..." Sherlock muttered, and John just nodded.
"Ya, like a date." John agreed. Sherlock stood there for what seemed like eons, his hair dripping and his mouth agape, staring unblinkingly at John like he had just been petrified.
"A date with you?" he muttered after a while, sounding scarcely able to believe it. John couldn't tell if that was a bad thing or a good thing, preferably the latter.
"If you don't want to its fine, I was just...you know, I thought that maybe you'd want to, because I want to." John muttered, starting to realize his mistake. Starting to accept that fact that Sherlock was most certainly going to say no.
"Yes." Sherlock muttered, still not having blinked since the question had been asked. John couldn't help but smile, finally letting out a breath of fear that he had been holding in for ages.
"Yes of course, oh my god...I'd love to I was just waiting for...yes of course." Sherlock agreed, regaining his composure for a moment, as if worried he was being too enthusiastic. Maybe he was playing hard to get, as if John would fall for that for one second.
"Brilliant, I was sort of hoping you'd say that." John agreed with a laugh, looking rather awkwardly down at his feet.
"Tomorrow night, I'm sure I'm free I can look I mean..." Sherlock muttered, staring to turn in a little circle with the biggest smile on his face. John couldn't help but smile, he was glad Sherlock had been feeling the same desperate feelings he had been.
"I'm free. I'm sure I am, nothing could be as important as this." Sherlock decided.
"Don't act like it's that big of a deal, I mean, it's just a date, it's nothing really..." John muttered, but Sherlock's beaming face stopped him as he spoke, and he just laughed once more. He had never seen Sherlock like this, looking like a child who had just been told they were going to Disney World.
"It's everything John." he breathed, looking once more into John's eyes. "I've been waiting for this since I first met you." John just smiled guiltily, breaking eye contact because he thought he might melt if Sherlock's beautiful eyes focused on him a second longer. But even though he could only see Sherlock's feet he knew that those eyes were still staring at him, he knew that Sherlock's cheeks were flushed red and he knew there was that little smile on his lips, he knew that he had just made Sherlock the happiest gardener in the world.