Sherlock & John (A Teenlock Fanfiction)

Chapter Forty Two - Bloodthirsty Velociraptor

A/N: but this chapter is cute hee AND IM WONDERING IF YOU GUYS WOULD LIKE TO SEE THE POV SWITCHES I'm experimenting with it look

Sherlock

Thursday night, John came over sporting Elvis Costello and Snow Patrol. He'd bought this "really brilliant" tape by some Magnetic Zeros thing... and he wouldn't shut up about it, despite Sherlock's half-amused glares. His father was fixing something in the kitchen, hitting a water pipe with a hammer. Sherlock tried to disregard him.

"There are a couple you might like, but I can tell you're more into the soft stuff. The rest is Alternative, Kings of Leon, the likes."

"Like... punk?" Sherlock wrinkled his pale nose, all discolored and patchy. He had told John the grayness would go away once he'd stopped the drugs completely, but he wasn't quite sure about that. He'd have to do research. Anyway, he hated John's rock - it felt like they were screaming. Whenever John gave him rock on his CDs, Sherlock would insist, "It seems that since they're not intelligent enough to sing their words, they have to scream them. In my mind, I always tell that one lead singer of... um, Para-more, yes, to stop yelling at me. I bloody understand the business of misery."

John always then said, "Paramore, not Para more."

And Sherlock would dismiss him, scoffing. Lately, John was disgustingly into New Wave, or post-punk or something. It made Sherlock cringe.

"No, Gorillaz is way gentler," he reassured. "You'd like On Melancholy Hill."

"Why?"

"Because it sounds nice."

Sherlock didn't feel like pointing out that the singers were cartoon characters. He missed Coldplay. "What happened to Coldplay?"

"Boring," John said. "I really want to show this other song, by Cold War Kids... I'll dub you a copy."

"Or we could just listen to it in my room," Sherlock responded, smiling.

"In your room?"

Sherlock nodded. "It's time."

"You never cared before, and then you just... stopped." John smiled back, wryly. "Should we tell your dad?"

"He won't mind," Sherlock said, quieter. "Father, may we go upstairs?" he called. 

His dad mumbled a soft, "Mrrph," so Sherlock grabbed John's hand quietly and went up the stairs three at a time. John was laughing as he ran up, and then his hand clenched around Sherlock's when they passed a corner. When they arrived, it felt so quietly intimate... and it made John turn a light shade of pink when he sat on the floor instead of the bed. Sherlock was going to ask why he didn't sit there, but then, Sherlock knew - if he'd done that, Sherlock would have begun to kiss him.

So they sat in between the bed and the stereo, on the floor (Sherlock asked for a stereo for Christmas) and as soon as they sat, John popped in Cold War Kids and began to fast forward through. As Sherlock was waiting for John to fast forward the CD, he picked up Elvis Costello and inspected it. Very shiny.

"Do you ever miss your old friends?" Sherlock suddenly asked, spinning the tape in his hand. "Don't they ever visit?"

"What, in London? Ha. No, they moved on soon enough. Mary called for a while, but-"

"Mary?"

"Yeah. She was my girlfriend."

"What's she now?" Sherlock asked, less than casually.