A Study In Him (Teenlock)

Eat Something

John was awake most of the night, just thinking about the events. He always found it hard sleeping in "new beds", be it at a new house, a friend's place, or a dormitory.

But also, the day before was very strange. He'd met the first boy ever he thought was gorgeous, which was weird because John is straight, and this boy seems very complex. He stood up for John against Jim and Sebastian, but then got very distant, just to jump back into conversation! On top of that, he'd thanked him for caring. What's that supposed to mean? Surely John isn't the only one who's ever cared about Sherlock?

Only a little of course. John is not gay.

In the morning, John and Sherlock attended college as usual. Classes. Meals. People. Same old same old.

Around dinner time, the future doctor was feeling quite famished, so he headed to the dorm to grab some coin for the nearby diner.

Once he unlocked the door with the room key given to him, he entered to find the bathroom once again occupied by his roommate. What was he doing in there?

Well, obviously, using the toilet.

Jesus, John, what did you think?

The college student shook his head to end that train of thought.

When Sherlock emerged, he was surprised to see John there. He grabbed his sleeves in his hands and avoided eye contact.

John was very confused.

Sherlock sat on his bed to read again. John grabbed his money and was about to head out when he stopped and looked at his roommate.

"Aren't you going for dinner?"

"Wasn't going to, why?"

"You need to eat. Come with me to the diner down the street."

"Oh, John, I couldn't--"

"I insist. Get off your arse and let's go."

Sherlock hesitated before following John out the door, locking it behind himself.

John waited for Sherlock to catch up. He just noticed now how thin his roommate is. Does he even eat at all?

John hoped so.

Once in the diner, they seated themselves at a booth next to the window looking out at the quickly-darkening street. Sherlock stared out at the road, which was beginning to get wet from the starting rain, and John looked at the menu.

"Are you ready to order?" The waitress came over, taking out a pen and paper, "Or do you need another minute?"

"I'm ready," John looked at Sherlock, who just nodded in response.

"Okay, what can I get for you two?"

"I'll just get the burger and fries please," John said, closing the menu.

"Alright. And you?" She nodded at Sherlock.

"Just a coffee."

"That's all?"

"Yes, thanks."

The waitress smiled and took their menus. Sherlock continued to stare aimlessly out the window.

"Aren't you hungry?" John asked.

"No," Sherlock shrugged, not breaking his gaze from the street, "Not really."

"You need to eat, you know."

"I'm not hungry tonight, John, but thank you."

Something told the future doctor he wasn't hungry very often, or just didn't want to eat.

This could be bad.

Many minutes of silence passed before the waitress, "Maggy", brought John's burger and Sherlock's coffee, "Enjoy!"

John dug in, taking monstrous bites of his burger. Sherlock just timidly sipped his coffee like he wasn't even hungry enough for that.

"Come on, share my fries. I understand you're not hungry, but you have to eat something."

"No, John, that's quite alrigh--"

"Please."

Sherlock paused before gingerly taking a fry. After slowly chewing it, he took another, and another, until half the plate was gone.

"Not hungry, eh?"

"Thank you, John."

"No problem."

Maggy came back and brought the bill. She handed it specifically to Sherlock, who glanced at the receipt and laughed.

"What?" John asked, leaning over the table to look.

Sherlock turned the bill around to reveal quickly written on the receipt was the words "CALL ME!" and, most likely, Maggy's number.

"Aww," John teased, "She seems nice."

"Not for me."

"Oh, come on, Sherlock, this could be good for you!"

"Nah. Not my type."

"What's not to like?"

"Nothing."

"Then what's the problem?"

"John," Sherlock looked at John seriously, "I'm gay."

John sat a moment with his lips slightly parted. This was surprising, but what was more surprising was the future doctor felt just a twinge of happiness. Why? Why the hell should John be happy? Not that he's unhappy, but why is he glad?

This makes no sense.

Finally, he remembered Sherlock was waiting for a response. Strangely, deep in those emotion-hiding brilliant green eyes, John could see a bit of regret, freedom, and maybe just the tiniest glimmer of hope.

"Oh. Okay. Sorry I didn't--"

"It's fine. I don't usually tell people. Only my brother knows."

"Why'd you tell me?" They weren't exactly the best of friends yet.

"I trust you. And it was necessary to get you to stop about Maggy."

"Right."

"And..." Sherlock searched for words.

"What?"

"Maybe..."

John stared expectantly at the future detective.

"...Never mind."

"Okay..."

What was that all about?

"We should go."

"Yeah."

As they waved a final goodbye to Maggy and left out the door, Sherlock seemed to have a little more pep in his step.