Sherlock & John (A Teenlock Fanfiction)

Chapter Fifty Five - Vanilla Goodbye

John

Once they actually were super close, John swore that Sherlock was stalling; he kept on saying that he'd missed a stoplight and that John was reading the map wrong. He began to apologize when the procrastination became obvious.

"It's fine," John said. "I'm not in a hurry."

Sherlock smiled, pulling his lips out thin, trying to ease his way into warmth. It came out strained. "Okay," he said, suddenly, taking a right turn - a correct right turn, actually...

"Hey, uh, Sherlock," John thrummed his fingers on the dash.

"John?"

"When you drop me off, don't come in, or anything..."

"Why?"

"Because the sooner you're home, the sooner I can call you. Or send you a letter. Or something."

"But if I leave soon, John..." Sherlock trailed.

"I know, I just... I want you to rip it off. Like a band-aid."

Sherlock took a left. "Okay."

John sat up, and ran his fingers through his hair. "That's it?"

"Should I say more?" Sherlock was even more tight-lipped than ever, now, and his eyes were alight with frustration.

"I, uh, no... No, I don't think you need to," John murmured, his brow scrunching. "I just..."

"Okay, John," Sherlock said, sounding irritated.

Sherlock

"It just... makes more sense, you know. We have to say goodbye, anyway, and I don't think it'd ever really matter whether it was now, or then, or tomorrow. Mostly because we're going to talk as soon as I get home."

Sherlock was silent, taking left turns and paying attention to rearview mirrors - his eyes flickered to the road and then to the left hand mirror. John watched him as Sherlock bit down on the inside of his cheek. The only way he was doing this without stopping was by sheer force of will.

John touched Sherlock's shoulder. "Hey." He smiled, and lied. "Hey. This isn't goodbye."

Sherlock frowned. "Is this it?" They came across a large house that was colored beige and blue, with a tree in the front, and a Volvo in the driveway. They weren't nearly as rich as Sherlock was... not so many hardwood floors. Maybe more carpeting... and the windows were smaller. Was there a chandelier in the living room? Did that matter?

Sherlock stepped on the gas.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm going around the block," Sherlock said tersely.

He then went around the block, for all the good it did, and they parked a few houses down from where John was going, so they could see the house from the car.

Sherlock couldn't look away from it.

John

He had to say goodbye, now. And he had no idea how to. No idea how to articulate a response that was even... worthy.

"Do you recall my phone number?"

"Yeah. I'll phone you. You phone me. 867-5309."

"Really, John?"

"I'll never forget your phone number. I'll call every day. Alright?"

Sherlock nodded at the window, watching the house like a cat.