Meet You Again

Chapter Five

John stared at him and Sherlock wanted nothing more than to have the ground open up beneath him and swallow him whole.

“I-I am so sorry.” he stuttered, scooting away (far away, need to get away, messed this up, he hates me, he hates me.) “I-” and John still just stared, lips parted and blue eyes wide and Sherlock could feel his chest caving in on him, could feel the pulsing of his heart in his ears. “I-”

Oh god, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.

***

Before.

Before he went and screwed it all up, oh god, I’m sorry.

Before, it was raining.

***

A flash of lightning, followed by a loud clap of thunder had them both running through the streets of London, John’s laughter bright and warm, coat flung over his head and shirt soaked.

Sherlock swore he’d never seen anything as beautiful as that in all his years of existence.

“Hurry up, you wanker!” John shouted and Sherlock shook out of his daze, legs moving steadily as he tried to avoid getting soaked by the large droplets falling from the sky. “We’ll catch our death out here!” the blond boy added, laughing again, eyes shining.

Sherlock scoffed, catching up to him easily. “It’s your fault we are out in this bloody weather!” he spoke over another distant boom of thunder, lips tilting just slightly. “Told you it was going to rain.”

John peered at him from under his coat, nose wrinkled. “The forecast said sunny skies.”

“How long have you lived in London? Should have known that the forecast was very wrong. Could tell it was going to rain from the shape and color of the clouds this morning.” Sherlock smirked slightly as John huffed.

“Remind me why we’re friends again?”

Friends. The word left a strange tingling in the pit of his stomach. “Because I make your life less boring?” he offered after a moment, voice strained.

John fell silent, lips pressed together tightly before they slowly stretched into that heart stopping smile. “Yeah. Yeah, you do.”

Sherlock swallowed the lump in his throat, coughing slightly. “We can go to my flat for shelter until the rain subsides. It isn’t far from here.”

John blinked. “I...Okay, sounds good.”

------

  “Stop, that. My parents are downstairs.” Sherlock warned uncomfortably, shifting away from him and picking his discarded book off his bed.

Victor gave a small pout. “Come on. You even said they don’t come up here to check on you. It’ll all be fine.” he edged closer, thigh pressing against the side of Sherlock’s.

He resisted the urge to flinch away.

“Doesn’t mean they won’t today. I don’t always have...someone over, okay?” he snapped impatiently, trying for the life of him to find his page and stop the conversation altogether.

Victor remained silent, just for a fleeting moment, before he was leaning towards him again, lips brushing the expose skin of his neck and hot breath fanning over his increasing pulse point. Sherlock jerked away from the movement, body tensed and lips drawn tight. “Stop, Victor.”

The boy frowned, pushing down his book and making a move to lunge forward, kissing him with all the delicateness of a hungry panther.

Sherlock made a displease noise, managing to bodily shove the boy off. “Stop it!”