Divided We Will Fall

It's A Soldier In Question

    "Not that this means anything to me at all, but do you mind if I sit down? People are pushing me." John muttered nervously.
"No." Sherlock growled, still grumpy from Molly's sudden attack.
"Sherlock come on, be reasonable!" Molly yelled, pushing his feet off of the chair with a lot more strength than he would have ever given her credit for. In fact Sherlock almost fell off of the chair head first, had it not been for John to reach out and grab his shoulder so as to steady him. For a moment Sherlock almost brushed him off and thanked him grumpily, yet he was happy he didn't, he was happy he waited and took notice of just what was happening here. John's hand was clasping his shoulder firmly, with enough strength to steady all of Sherlock's body weight with just one arm. John's thumb was pressed down underneath Sherlock's dress shirt, somehow having landing on bare skin when he went out to grab him, and now sending electric pulses of intimacy into both of their skin. John's finger touching Sherlock's chest, where no man has ever touched before, and John feeling skin softer than he might have imagined, the very skin that was hiding under Sherlock's shirt this whole time. And he stayed there, for a moment he didn't let his hand go, for a moment John caught his breath as if he didn't know what to do, as if he didn't know how long he was allowed to appreciate this moment, staring at Sherlock with his mouth agape. Sherlock merely grinned, repositioning himself and brushing John's lingering hand away. John cleared his throat a bit awkwardly once more, brushing his bangs aside and taking a very stiff seat next to Molly, nearly sitting on Sherlock's feet where they now lay so as to try to balance himself the best he could. It was curious, the sort of affect Sherlock's touch had on John, which only made him wonder now how many of God's 'mistakes' were living out in the world a lusting over people they thought they could never have. Could it possibly be that John shared some sort of passion for Sherlock, some sort of romantic longing that he thought he could never express? Sherlock chuckled to himself evilly, for if that was indeed the case...well this was going to be a lot of fun, wasn't it? Tormenting him?
"So John, you're not actually a milkman, are you?" Sherlock wondered, leaning forward ever closer so as to study the effects of such a question on John's face.
"Well actually I am, or at least I grew to be. I have my route, I have my milk supplier, but it's a façade. Mr. Hooper set it up for me just as soon as Molly told him about the soldiers." John admitted with a little shrug of guilt.
"So it's been from the start!" Sherlock exclaimed.
"Well yes of course! As soon as you mentioned them coming I immediately though to my father, I thought he'd want to know. Thankfully he had help, accomplices and whatnot. Joh has proved to be invaluable." Molly admit with a little sigh.
"You have to admit though; I am the most critical piece in this whole puzzle. Without me you'd never even have known there were redcoats." Sherlock pointed out.
"You're the most critical piece in the beginning, yet in the middle remember you didn't even know what was happening." John pointed out.
"But I let you in, didn't I?" Sherlock insisted with a little frown.
"Anyone would've let me in, that milk crate is heavy for a reason. Heavy so that no one else can lift it but me, so as to guarantee myself entrance into the house." John pointed out.
"What, so you used the heaviest milk you could find?" Sherlock taunted.
"No, I put sandbags underneath the bottles." John admitted with a clever little smile. "I thought it was quite smart."
"What would have happened if the house was filled with buff men?" Sherlock pointed out, a very hypothetical question of course.
"Good thing there were none of those in your house." John teased, looking up at Sherlock with a great big smile and looking almost surprised to see him looking back. Oh it was curious, so very curious, to see John expressing the same feelings Sherlock had been feeling for so long! To see him blushing, and looking away suddenly, as if eye contact was somehow considered rude. All obvious signs of love, signs that Sherlock noticed miles away due entirely to the fact that he had gone through them all himself! It was an interesting thought that John might have fallen in love with him, however with a quick glance back at their history together it was not entirely unlikely. Flirtatious people are usually insufferable, and John definitely had that quality to him. Sherlock would not have thought anything of it if John hadn't been so breathless when he caught Sherlock by the chest; if he hadn't reacted the way he did Sherlock would've never even thought it a possibility. Interesting how it takes a person who had fallen in love to know one.
"Yes, I do suppose it's a good thing. In the end." Sherlock agreed with a bit of a frown, studying John's face all while the boy had long since looked away. Studying his face to see if he could find any sort of beauty in it from this angle, beauty that Sherlock might find it in himself to appreciate, and maybe reciprocate, that is of course if Victor didn't work out. Yet right now it was hard for Sherlock to even think of who might come after Victor, considering it seemed that Victor was his supreme match. He seemed just perfect, and compared to John Watson...well it really was no competition.
"So now that you know, Sherlock, will you help us?" Molly asked a bit shamefully, looking up to where Sherlock perched on the arm rest. Sherlock frowned, leaning over onto his knees and watching as the two little spies looked up at him expectantly. It was hard to say no to two adorable little pleading faces, however all the while he knew that it was necessary to let them down. He really couldn't play sides here, he had to stay friendly with both the revels and the British until he got firm clarification that he was doing the right thing by joining either side faithfully.
"I'm sorry, but I don't want to choose sides any longer. I feel as though it's very stressful to fully devout yourself to either side of a war, and at the moment I'm not sure what I would like the future to hold. Surely I would like America to be its own country, however I don't want war to break out and lives to be lost. If the British start the battle then that's fine...America needs to end it. Yet I hope it doesn't come to that." Sherlock sighed heavily.
"Oh Sherlock, always so well thought out and noble. How can I protest with such an opinion?" Molly asked, and however upset she sounded Sherlock knew that comment to be genuine. There really was nothing she could say that would change his mind, and at this point she knew him to be the most stubborn individual on the face of the earth.
"I feel as though there's something more going on here." John decided, shuffling a bit uncomfortably in what little seat they had been able to provide him with. Sherlock just scowled, shaking his head in protest and looking at Molly accusingly. It was her fault, of course, that John was catching on.
"No, nothing." Sherlock lied quickly, looking off towards Molly with a great sigh before watching the passerby instead.
"Sherlock is just getting too eager about things, that's all. He's being rash." Molly muttered with a pop of her lips and an accusing frown.
"I'm not getting eager, Molly I'm just trying to enjoy myself, I'm trying to live my life!" Sherlock exclaimed.
"Your life can wait a week, can it not? Your life can take a break and enjoy what you already have!" Molly yelled back angrily.
"He could die in a week, Molly! We're on the brink of war!" Sherlock exclaimed, throwing his hands up in the air and once more nearly falling back off of the back of the bench. This time he was able to catch himself, steadying himself all while Molly fumed once more. Yet she didn't say anything, obviously because she didn't know how to respond to that. Of course Sherlock was right, Victor could be taken off to the front lines any day now, and with the arrival of General Gage they were closer than they've ever been to amounting causalities. How horrible would Molly feel if Sherlock went to her and announced that Victor had died, and that he had never gotten the opportunity to give his innocence away to the man he chose? That he had never gotten to spend the time he wanted to spend with the man he had fallen so deeply in love with, his soulmate?
"I'm guessing it's a soldier in question?" John asked in the uncomfortable silence, obviously doing his best to try to ease up the tension that had built. Sherlock crossed his arms moodily, and Molly just looked away with a huff.
"Yes, it's a soldier." Molly agreed with a scowl. John nodded, looking between the two as if trying to figure out in what context a soldier fit in here. Sherlock direly wished that he didn't figure it out, however it would be interesting nonetheless if he did. Surely if John was actually in love with him (which was still very much a vague and distant possibility) he would like to know that Sherlock was already romantically involved with men. However if he found out without actually loving Sherlock then there would be a massive problem, one that came in the form of possible black mail. John was a spy, he was tricky and he undoubtedly knew how to work people into doing what he asked. Sherlock had valuable information in his head, information that could only grow at this point. If John threatened him with revealing his relationship with Victor, Sherlock's spilling his secrets could put the entire British army at risk! Oh but he still didn't know if that was a good thing or a bad thing...how hard it was to have morals when you didn't even know what you were fighting for!
"I'm going to do it, now just out of spite." Sherlock said confidently. He sort of regretted such a statement, because as soon as the words had left his lips Molly finally blew up. With a great yell of exasperation she reached over John's shoulder and gave Sherlock a hard push to the chest, this time without much warning, and leaving no reaction time. Sherlock fell from the bench right onto his back, flailing and screaming all the short way down. The impact left him breathless and the pain was immense for just a moment, for his spine and the back of his head were the first things to hit against the cobblestone.
"You could've killed me!" Sherlock gasped, clutching to his head as he sat up in delirium, very much aware of the crowd their screaming was drawing.
"Maybe it's for the best, Sherlock. Maybe if you die now you'll still make it into Heaven!" Molly exclaimed, getting to her feet and storming off with the last word, her high heels clicking in very out of place merry little tune as she made her grand exit. Sherlock groaned heavily, shooing the crowd away with a wave of his hand and looking towards where John was now standing, looking as if he didn't know what to do.
"Well are you going to help me up, or just stand there?" Sherlock growled.
"Yes, yes of course." John agreed, giving Sherlock a strong hand to grab onto and lugging the boy to his feet. Sherlock was impressed with his strength, seeing as though he had exerted none of it himself, making John lug his entire body weight up with just one of his arms. Sherlock stood tall, his skull and back still tingling with pain yet it was already fading away. He might get a bruise or two tomorrow, yet that was a meager price to pay for surviving Molly's outrage. One time she got very close to breaking his arm when she threw a temper tantrum when they were small. They had been playing baseball and she got angry because Sherlock did something stupid, at the moment he couldn't recall just what it was. Yet long story short they were banned from playing together for months because Molly hit him with the baseball bat, getting Sherlock's arm in a sling for quite a while. In fact for something as big and serious as this argument, Sherlock was quite pleased that this was his only injury.
"Do you want me to go and get you some ice?" John suggested, helping Sherlock over to the now very spacious bench where he sat down and huffed his annoyance.
"No, I don't need ice. I need her to just see from my eyes for once in her life!" Sherlock exclaimed grumpily. John sat down next to him and nodded, trying to be helpful even though he really had no idea what was going on.
"Well you know women; they're always pretty dedicated to their own opinions." John admitted with a shrug.
"Yes, and you know Molly. So you know that she's three times as stubborn, and all the more unreasonable." Sherlock grumbled, shaking his head in exasperation before leaning back on the bench with a wince of pain. He already felt a lump forming on the back of his head, hidden underneath his curls where it would not be too obvious. He only hoped it didn't restrict tonight's pleasures in anyway, therefore allowing Molly to get the final word and the last laugh.
"Is there anything I can do to help?" John wondered curiously.
"No, no there's nothing. She'll get over it, in time, once she realizes that she can't live both of our lives for us. Maybe she's jealous, I don't know, but I can make my own decisions." Sherlock growled.
"What's all of this about? Is she..."
"I'm not telling you." Sherlock interrupted, silencing John so that the boy just pouted shamefully.
"Yes alright." He agreed with a little mutter. "You know, I won't tell anyone. I'm a spy on the soldiers, not on you. We can still be friends."
"It's rather hard to trust you, if I do admit." Sherlock grumbled, looking over to where John was looking quite innocent, and quite small. It was almost tricky enough for Sherlock to see him as innocent, someone who just needed a hug, and not a war. Yet he remembered of course this morning's skirmish, when this seemingly tiny, helpless boy had taken him down in a mad and violent tackle. He was a powerful boy, with even more powerful feelings towards his American cause.
"I get it." John agreed. "To be honest, I wouldn't trust me either."
"I understand why you're doing it...it's not like I'm mad at you. I know that I'm in an awkward position here, because before the soldiers came along I would've done the same thing. I was a fierce patriot before I realized what sort of enemy we were dealing with. One that was surprisingly likable, surprisingly human." Sherlock admitted quietly.
"Is that what you're fighting about? She doesn't like you changing sides?" John wondered curiously.
"No, no that was last week's argument." Sherlock admitted with a laugh, shaking his head and staring across the street of a gaggle of young women, all dressed in their finest clothes and out for a stroll. It was something of a relief to not have to pretend to be attracted to them; it was kind of a relief to know now that there was a reason he was indifferent.
"I feel like I should best just stay out of it." John decided with a bit of a submissive shrug.
"You'd be right to, of course. Because she'll be even more angry with me tomorrow, when I go against her word and do what I want to anyway." Sherlock admitted with a little grin of defiance.
"She'll probably kill you tomorrow then." John decided. Sherlock just smirked once more, nodding his head and knowing full well that death tomorrow afternoon would have no real effect on him. He wouldn't be missing anything except the agony that war brought along. He would be dead, and therefore unable to process the losses on either side that would hurt him in unmeasurable ways.
"That's fine, of course. By tomorrow I will have lived to my fullest extent. There's nothing she can do about it now, nothing she can do to stop me." Sherlock said proudly.
"This almost sounds like some sort of...romantic escapade." John admitted apprehensively. Sherlock just chuckled, shaking his head so as to try to throw John off the correct path.
"You really think I'm the type of person to meddle in such things as love?" Sherlock clarified with a little chuckle of disapproval. John looked at him for a moment, studying Sherlock's face almost as if to see what secrets might lie in his face and in his grin.
"Well yes, actually. You seem like the type of boy to be something of a womanizer." John admitted with something of a little laugh. Sherlock chuckled once more, and this time it was with genuine humor that he was amused. Because the very thought of him constantly looking for women and their attention...well it was almost laughable! John was on the parallel path to the truth, and now he was only looking straight ahead, unaware that there even was another path to travel! He was right in all ways but one, a critical detail, one that he would never guess unless get opened his mind to the possibilities that the human heart was capable of. Oh poor, confused John Watson.
"And why do you say that?" Sherlock wondered curiously.
"Well, just because you asked that question. The need to be the center of attention, the desire for the spotlight and for people to study you. Having a girlfriend, many girlfriends, is a good way to get that sort of admiration." John said positively. Sherlock stopped for a moment, a bit unsure of what to say to that. He wasn't entirely sure if John was insulting him or not, he wasn't sure if he was supposed to scoff and laugh or if he was supposed to nod along and agree. Because that did sound like him, in all truthfulness it was surprisingly accurate. Would that put a dampener on whatever romantic motivations he may be hiding behind? Might he really want Victor in such a way so as to get the attention he secretly craved?
"That's um...that's very observant of you." Sherlock muttered a bit nervously.
"That and you seem pretty enough to get such an operation going. I could only imagine that Molly's upset with you because she's fallen for you." John decided.
"You think I'm going off with another girl then, too fast?" Sherlock presumed.
"Yes, something along those lines. Maybe something to do with the soldiers, since you mentioned them before." John presumed.
"Hm, good. Yes, I'm proud to say that you know absolutely nothing, and I'd very much like to keep it that way." Sherlock announced with a grin, getting to his feet and turning to say a formal goodbye to John.
"I'll walk you home." John announced with a nod, getting to his feet as well and looking very set upon the fact even though Sherlock never officially announced his departure.
"Why would you want to do that?" Sherlock clarified with squinty, suspicious eyes. "Not trying to spy anymore, are you?"
"I just thought it would be the polite thing to do. Besides, if that fall had hurt your brain and you collapse on the ground in a fit, who's going to be there to take care of you? Come on then, I know the way just fine." John insisted with a grin, starting off the road without Sherlock's direct agreement. However Sherlock merely smiled, for he knew now that he had no choice in the matter, and with a desperate little scramble he rushed up to keep stride with the short yet surprisingly quick little man.