There Is Nothing Wrong With Me

Talking Ruins The Moment

"The pizza is ordered." John announced proudly, sinking back into his chair only to kick Sherlock's legs under the table. After a few very extensive apologies on both ends, the boys withdrew their legs so that their feet were both tucked politely under their chairs, intending on leaving room for the other boy's feet to stretch. And so the politeness war raged on.
"You look a bit lonely." John decided, crossing his arms and looking over at Sherlock with a sort of flirtatious smile. Sherlock just giggled, ducking his head as he felt his cheeks heat up already. What was it about John's gaze that made his face decide to be an oven?
"Well you know...Actually no, I don't know how to answer that." Sherlock admitted with another guiltily smile.
"You're supposed to say something like, 'well I'm not now', or maybe 'that's only because my dazzlingly attractive boyfriend went to get pizza'." John pointed out with a laugh, and Sherlock could only groan at John's poor sense of humor.
"I'm only alone because my um...what was it?" Sherlock wondered with a laugh.
"Dazzlingly attractive." John offered quickly.
"Ah, because my dazzlingly attractive boyfriend went up to get pizza." Sherlock finished, looking up at John proudly, who just beamed right back at him. There was something in his eyes, a sort of loving tenderness that Sherlock had never seen in another human's eyes before. Not even Victor wore this look, presumably because there was nothing gentle about that boy at all, however when John gazed upon Sherlock there was a firecracker of emotions just bursting in his eyes. It was a sort of look of protectiveness, as well as flirtation, mixed in with a dash of pity and a dash of amazement, as if, even though he thought Sherlock had suffered in the past, he was wondering why on earth someone so beautiful would recognize him and love him. It was a modest look, an appreciative look, and all the while it made Sherlock's heart beat faster and faster until there was nothing on earth he wanted to do more than kiss John right here, in the middle of the most crowded shop in town. John simply leaned over, and for a terrifying yet exhilarating moment Sherlock was sure that John was going to kiss him, as if he somehow was able to read Sherlock's mind, however he did nothing except bat at Sherlock's bangs a little bit, repositioning them so that they fell more into his eyes and looked more straggly. Sherlock simply giggled, giggling so ferociously that it would give Molly and Sarah a run for their money.
"What are you doing?" Sherlock wondered flirtatiously, batting John's hand away yet hoping that John would be stubborn enough to continue. To Sherlock's disappointment John drew away, but he seemed content enough because he leaned back in his chair and simply gazed some more.
"I like your bangs better when they're in your face." John admitted with a shrug.
"Oh really?" Sherlock wondered breathlessly, making a mental note to grow out his hair until it was all long enough to throw completely over his face.
"Yes I do. And you must've done something to it while I was away, because you tucked it all back as if you thought you had to look neat and presentable around me." John observed.
"Well I didn't want you to think I'm some sort of unkempt slob." Sherlock muttered meekly, looking up at John as if begging for his approval. John, however, simply laughed a beautiful laugh, shaking his head as if he simply couldn't start to understand what went on in Sherlock's mind half the time.
"Yes, an unkempt slob in a neat little button down shirt and polished shoes and slacks. Here I am wearing a sweaty jersey with dried blood all down my face and you think you're the one who's not looking up to par? Sherlock I've got a newsflash for you, whatever you do, and however you look, well it's perfect to me." John assured softly. Sherlock just smiled, not knowing how to respond to that simply because he thought his lips would refuse to slacken his smile to push words out. So he stayed quiet, dropping his gaze for a moment and not a moment too soon! A waiter clad in a white apron swooped overhead and dropped too sizzling pizzas before them, both presented ceremoniously on shining silver platters and accompanied by an unnecessarily large stack of napkins and paper plates.
"Enjoy your meal." The waiter said while dropping into something of a bow. He was obviously a sports fan, because as he walked away Sherlock noticed a red and silver shirt sticking out from under his white apron. Of course as soon as the pizza was set in front of them all three boys (not Sherlock, he was too sensible) dove at it, trying to get the largest pieces despite the hot bubbling oil and the melty cheese. In the end they successfully got their pizza and some minor burns as they tried to stack all the fallen cheese from the silver tray to their meager slices of sauce and crust. Sherlock and the girls just rolled their eyes, waiting for their dates to stop displaying their masculinity before they could get their own slices. Sherlock waited a good two minutes; just to be sure he wouldn't make an unattractive mess of himself while he tried to eat. One piece would surely be enough, and he already had his eyes on a tiny little piece of the plain. In the end Sherlock only ate one piece while the girls had two each, while the boys prided themselves in finishing off the rest of the pieces that still lay before them. In the end Greg succeeded in eating five pieces while John and Mike ate three, supposedly there was a bit of a competition as well because Greg kept bragging to the others how big his stomach was and how hungry he got after a game. Boys could be overwhelmingly stupid, especially since while Greg boasted about his pizza eating capabilities Molly seemed less and less eager to sit so close. Sometimes Sherlock wondered why he had dedicated his heart to the less intelligent gender, but then he looked over at John and realized exactly why. Because boys were freaking beautiful. There wasn't much conversation after their pizza had vanished into their stomachs, they all sat there for a while, feeling bloated and miserable, trying to divide up their money evenly to cover the cost. It was more difficult than it should be, because even though Sherlock had done the math to divide the cost into sixes (to the last cent and everything!) there was the problem of who was buying for who. So now they had all the gentleman throwing their money around and trying to buy for their dates all while their dates insisted on buying for them, and it was just chaos. In the end they probably all paid way too much, the tip probably exceeded the cost of the pizza itself, but finally once everyone was satisfied with the money they had put on the table there was no taking it back. They all made sure to take handfuls of mints on their way out (pizza breath isn't very attractive for goodnight kisses) and took to the streets once more, wandering down the sidewalks by the light of the street lamps, all full yet satisfied and not quite sure what to say. Sherlock knew that there must be something, even the weather, the game, politics? But no, all the topics of small talk that he usually clung to were simply too stupid, he can't just end a date while talking about the election! So what then?
"Have you been getting the letters alright?" Sherlock asked stupidly, glancing over very quickly before starting down at his feet.
"Ya, ya this little system is working fine." John agreed. Sherlock made a little noise of contentment, not sure what to say next.
"Greg's not reading them, is he?" Sherlock wondered again, looking up at John with a careful little smile.
"No, I mean not that I know of. And Molly, she's keeping her powdered nose out of our business too I hope?" John wondered, and Sherlock just laughed, stuffing his hands in his coat pockets as his breath turned to mist in the cold night air.
"Yes, she assured me that it's all confidential." Sherlock agreed in a small voice.
"Not that what we're writing is bad, not that I'm ashamed it's just, you know, private." John added with a shrug.
"Private, yes." Sherlock agreed, muttering mostly to himself. He couldn't help but glance once more over at John in the street lamps, dazzled once more by the rugged beauty that clung so obediently to his skin. The street lamps were doing wonders to his complexion, shading certain parts of his face where the light was blocked, making other portions gleam, making his still sweaty hair glow in the darkness, he had a peaceful sort of beauty to him tonight that made Sherlock feel surprisingly calm. It didn't make sense, since usually when John looked exceptionally beautiful he stuttered and blushed and didn't know what to do but tonight, tonight he just felt like his mere presence was conversation enough. They were starting to get used to each other by now, all it took was one real date and a couple of letters but finally when silence hung over them it wasn't uncomfortable. They were starting not only to cooperate but to coexist as well, appreciate the other's closeness and proximity rather than the quality of their conversation.
"What do you get up to when I'm not around? Like what do you do for fun?" John wondered casually, trying to match his short stride to Sherlock's longer stride, stepping down whenever he heard the telltale click of Sherlock's miniscule heel upon the cement.
"Well, fun? Not much to be honest, I usually just mope around." Sherlock admitted with a sort of smile.
"Oh do you? That's...fun." John muttered nervously, as if he had no idea how to respond to that.
"I do homework, I study, I read a lot. I used to play the violin but after um, after I left Wisteria I sort of lost my interest." Sherlock admitted, his voice getting progressively smaller as his sentence went on.
"The violin is beautiful, my grandma always used to listen to it over Christmas. I always used to complain, but I secretly liked it." John admitted with a small laugh.
"It certainly is beautiful, always so willing to play whatever emotion you can't express with words. I used to get lost in the rhythm and the strings and the song, it used to annoy my roommate so much, but Victor..." Sherlock paused for a moment, clearing his throat and realizing once more that he had accidently stumbled into troubled waters. "Victor always said it was beautiful." He finished in a sort of whisper. This time the silence was awkward.
"I don't mean to pry, and certainly ignore me if you don't want to answer, but...what was your relationship with Victor like?" John wondered, his voice sounding as if he were getting more and more uncomfortable with every syllable he spoke. Sherlock, however, could only sigh, thinking all the way back to when he had found Victor's presence to be breathtaking...
"He wasn't always so cold. He wasn't heartless. Once he was just, he was full of life, he had this sort of radiant power and confidence that I always admired, and we had classes and whatnot together, we were in the same year so how could you not? I suppose he just, took a liking to me, because suddenly we became friends. I don't even remember how it happened really, one day we were strangers, glancing at each other from afar and the next day we were...more. We were friends for months, and I suppose we just kept our feelings secret. That was back when I never knew what I was, or who I was at that, and so I just thought that I was confused, overwhelmed I suppose, with making a new friend. We were only together a week, romantically I mean. And by then I thought that everything was perfect, that I could live a life of secrecy with him that we could be...that we could be happy." Sherlock whispered, his voice trembling as it escaped his lips, the story he couldn't bring himself to admit to anyone. In fact he was sure that John was the first one to listen, simply because he was the first one to ask. No one ever wanted to know about their relationship purely because the public had been told there was no relationship, that Victor had no feelings for Sherlock whatsoever, that he just took the love from the poor helpless boy. But that wasn't how it went at all, Victor had loved him, and Sherlock had loved him back.
"We can be happy, Sherlock. I assure you." John said flatly, looking over at Sherlock for a powerful moment before diverting his gaze once more. Sherlock smiled softly to himself, nodding his head in agreement.
"If all goes right, John, then yes I think we can. We have the potential to, at that. But what we're doing, it's difficult, and I never realized just how hopeless a relationship can be when you try to love someone you're not allowed to. I always thought that love was simple, that it was something of a fairytale. That love would conquer all. I never realized, John, that there are limits to everyone's fairytale, that there are...exceptions." Sherlock muttered nervously.
"We'll be careful Sherlock, more careful than we ever had been before. We can lie, sneak out, disguise ourselves, I don't care! Just as long as I can be with you, just as long as we can be together." John insisted. Sherlock felt his cheeks blush once more, but he knew that John wasn't just saying this to flirt, or to get that flustered look of speechlessness that Sherlock never failed to produce. This was genuine love, genuine dedication, this was a promise that wasn't so easily broken.
"And we can work for our happily ever after." Sherlock agreed with a smile. John smiled right back, leaning into Sherlock and somehow resting his head on his shoulder while they walked, leaning so close that Sherlock could hear the breaths he took in such close proximity.
"I won't leave you Sherlock, never voluntarily. And more than anything, I won't hurt you, like he did." John promised in a breath.
"I believe that John, more than anything I believe that." Sherlock agreed, taking a breath, a very cautious breath at that, and wrapping his arm around John's shoulder. He held him there for a moment, their footsteps starting to match with each other's, tapping the sidewalk in unison while they held so close together. That was a moment Sherlock will never forget, that moment when he was sure that everything was going to be alright. The future seemed so certain while he held John so close, however there always seemed to be forces at work, forces beyond their power and beyond their control. It always seemed that once Sherlock was sure everything was going to be alright, the universe made sure to hold his happiness just out of reach, and crush him when he least expected it.