Rainy Days : A TeenLock Fanfiction

John's Date

London seemed to be going through a drought. It hadn't rained in a whole month. Not a single drop. This fact was starting to irritate Sherlock even more than the fact that John was having more sex than seemed imaginable. Sometimes John would bring the women home and sometimes he would come home the morning after he left.

Sherlock started to question himself. Never before in his life did he doubt himself so greatly. He started to worry that he'd stereotypically fallen in love with John, and was no longer bound by "love" as a general term. Deep down he knew what was going on, he just couldn't seem to grasp it. Jealousy is the leading motivator in murder, and Sherlock definitely didn't want to go around slaughtering John's lays like Jack The fucking Ripper.

Well, he could pull it off, but he doubted it would sit right with John.

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"I've got another date tonight, Sherlock," John opened his medical textbook up to study while he ate his breakfast. His back was to John, but his shoulders fell visibly. Sherlock flipped his pancake. "Fun," he mumbled, obviously unenthusiastic. John glanced up at Sherlock for a moment, trying to read him, but returned his gaze to the pages.

"We haven't kissed in a while."

"Like you said, you've got another date."

The only other noise in the room was the sizzle of the pan and the steadily growing bubbling of the kettle. Occasionally, John's fork would gently hit his plate, and remind Sherlock that there was an issue that needed closure. He'd never avoided anything so willingly in his entire existence. John's chair scraped against the tile, and Sherlock felt his presence beside him.

John pressed his lips to Sherlock's cheek the way a sibling would when the other fell over and broke their toy. It was almost as if John was putting a bandaid on him, because deep down, he also knew what was going on inside Sherlock. And it seemed as though he was content in staying like they were. Sherlock softened, ignoring the gesture but not ignoring John. "I'm can make more if you want more."

"Sherlock."

Sherlock was silent, and worked that way as John shook his head and returned to the table. He didn't eat the rest of his breakfast, but Sherlock deduced that he would ace his exam.

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John pulled on his coat, checking his appearance in the sitting room mirror. Sherlock snorted out a laugh, then tossed a crumpled wad of paper at his nervous friend. "Just go already or you're going to be late." John spun around and held his arms out expectantly. "How do I look?? Okay? Presentable?"

John was wearing a regular pair of jeans, a white button up shirt with a black vest over it, his usual brown jacket and a pair of worn brown shoes. He was average, but Sherlock liked that about him.

Sherlock thought a moment before answering. He was treading on thin ice. "As always, you look very handsome." He smiled softly at the end to hopefully make the words seem more platonically generous. John scoffed. "Yeah and coming from the most beautiful thing in London, that totally makes me feel better. Seriously, you don't even have to try for women to notice you." He turned back to the mirror with a worried expression.

"So you're jealous of me," Sherlock concluded. John scrubbed his face and tugged at his skin. "Not really, more like envious," he checked his watch, "Sorry mate, gotta dash!" And with that, he jogged out the door. Sherlock drifted towards the window to watch him get a taxi. A sinking feeling washed over him, and the painfully clear sky looked awfully bleak.

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His date had questioned him ruthlessly. His name and interests were normal, but then she started to ask about where he lived and when he was born and what his drinking habits were. And she ate a lot. A lot. John didn't have all that much money to begin with, but after her, he was totally broke. In short, she was a bit on the creepy side. But the doctor inside him saw the signs of OCD and depression in her, so he carried on with the date as best as he could. As soon as their cab dropped her off, he heaved a sigh of relief and told the cabbie to head on back to his beloved Baker Street.

There were a few things he had yet to do.

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Sherlock awoke to a hand shaking him from his stupor. He suddenly became aware of an aching pain in his lower back and legs, in his torso, shoulders, neck, and arms. Had he seriously fallen asleep while he was sitting at the table? He remembered something about an experiment...

John snapped his fingers at Sherlock in a successful attempt to bring him back to reality. "Earth to Sherlock, hello hello." Sherlock rubbed his eyes and slurred, "How was your date?" John plopped down in his chair and groaned. "Atrocious. Do we have any alcohol?" Sherlock nodded towards the fridge. "Beer," he muttered, still slowly trying to wake himself. He noticed how worn John was, so he went and got two out of the fridge, tossing one to his weary companion.

John relayed the events of the night, and soon the boys were laughing their asses off. They gave her a nickname, and she would forever be another inside joke to the two of them. So even to Sherlock's dismay, they became closer to one another through John's date.

Sherlock hoped this would always be the case, but deep down, he knew that one day, one of those dates would be the death of him.