Tell it to the stars

A night meeting

Sherlock Holmes quietly slid down the window behind him,steadying his balance on the window ledge. A few quick leaps up the side of the wall and he was perched on the peak of the roof.
Tranquil . That's how he'd describe how this spot made him feel if anyone bothered to ask him. It was that magical , crisp time of night where noise of the world was in its slumber and nature seemed to revert to it very roots. Here nothing mattered and he could stop being him for just one moment. Stop being Sherlock Holmes, the freak , weirdo, the fag.
Here , he was just another piece of history, a bundle of buzzing stardust.
Here he was free.
He sat there, enveloped in his melancholy thoughts until a light tapping pulled him from his reverie. His eyes darted down to the source of the noise , a light haired head poking out from the window across from him.
"Hello!" the blonde boy shouted up ,at the lean boy sprawled atop of the tiles.
Sherlock quickly shushed the boy and glared daggers at him, dimly lit down there and very hard to make out.
"Well how am I supposed to talk to you then?"the boy teased in mock surprise.
Defeated, Sherlock rolled his eyes and motioned to the space beside him and waited for the mysterious stranger .

With a grin , the boy leaped out of his open window and was setting down next to Sherlock in a matter of seconds. Athletic
Sherlock opened his mouth to make a cocky comment on the ridiculousness of sport, when he was taken aback by the now fully lit view of the boy.
His tousled golden hair was swept back by the chill wind and rippled across his head. His tan skin was illuminated in the streetlight and his eyes glimmered with a mixture of excitement and anxiety. Strangely, he wasn't dressed in any kind of sleep attire, instead , a blue shirt was hugging his toned frame and accompanying it was a pair of black jeans. He even had already slipped on a pair of red converse.
"Where are you going ?" Sherlock asked.
After a moment of shock, the blonde boy besides him looked down at his dangling feet.
"Anywhere. "
Sherlock looked at him quizzically and so the boy continued.
"I was running away. Just to get out of here. Get away from it all. Do you ever get so sick of it all. The little streets with little lines of houses and friendly ladies next door. You know every inch of a place and it's all just the same. It's all just so..... Boring. "At this point the boy looked up at Sherlock, who was staring intently at him. He carried on.
"All of it's so fake too. Plastic people with plastic smiles. To paint the picture of this perfect friendly neighbourhood when behind closed doors the words are filled with venom, affection only coming from the smash of a bottle. "
As the words fell from the boy's mouth , Sherlock felt a pang of something unfamiliar deep in his chest. Empathy. He was sad for the golden boy.
The pair looked down at their feet, both lost in thought until Sherlock finally broke the silence.
"You said you were running away, what changed your mind?"
"Well how could I run away now when I've got a mystery right here?" the boy gave the other a careful smirk.
"What mystery?" Sherlock questioned,baffled by the blonde.
"You." he replied simply, grinning at Sherlock's shocked reaction.
"I wanna know what makes you laugh, makes you angry, makes you you. It's not every day you find a boy on a roof ,you know. You're different. And god knows I need something different. "

Sherlock looked close to tears at the strange boy's words.
"No ones ever wanted to , know me." he whispered.
"Well I do." The blonde boy comforted, pulling the taller boy into a tight embrace.
Sherlock's entire body stiffened at the touch, the last time someone had held him tight it wasn't to comfort. The boy simply whispered "It's ok." ,and pulled Sherlock's head into his chest as he melted into the touch.
After, several moments, he pulled away, glancing at the time on his watch.
"Well, I better be getting back inside. Need my beauty sleep you know." he joked.
He began to climb down from the roof, stopping to perch on his windowsill.
"I'll see you tomorrow?"he asked up to to the boy still sat on the tiles.
"I guess. But I don't even know your name?"he queried
"John. Watson, and you?"
"Sherlock Holmes."
"Well goodnight Sherlock. "
"Goodnight John. "
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So this is really bloody cheesy but excuse that, when it comes to these two I'm a hopeless romantic.