His Majesty, The Queen

Girls Night Out

"He left after that, you know? Woke from a dream, I suppose, and left me there. I haven't seen him since." Professor Trevor admitted quietly. Sherlock stood hesitantly, reaching for one of the shorter branches on the tree and using it to support his weight by his fingers, merely for something to do with his time while he pondered a meaningful response.
"I'm sure he's just in a state of shock. I'm sure he didn't expect that, but he'll be back. I know he'll be back." Sherlock assured quickly, though his voice was hesitant enough for the Professor to manage a small and sad little grin.
"Or he's packing his bags." He muttered at last. "I've made a fool of myself, I really have. I let passion cloud my judgement...oh one moment I was in his embrace, recovering from the shock of the news. The next I was in his arms, and our lips had just barely touched...it all went downhill from there."
"I'm sure he'll be back to you, I'm sure he's just recovering. That's how John was, when we kissed at the party. He liked it, but he couldn't process it quickly enough to ease my nerves. I thought perhaps he hated me for about a week, but here we are now." Sherlock admitted finally. The Professor nodded his head, though his eyes remained glassy and his hands remained twisted upon his knees, looking to be in an utmost state of paranoia.
"I've lost too much already to lose it all again. If he goes to the police..."
"If he goes to the police he'll have as much to lose as you do! Remember it takes two to commit a crime of that caliber." Sherlock pointed out. The Professor managed a chuckle, though he shook his head.
"There are ways around that. There are so many ways to play the victim." He assured quietly. "What the law does not understand, in the end, is that we homosexuals are no more criminal than they are. Police merely assume that we are ravagers, without any regard for the feelings of the men we get our hands on. They consider us rapists, and madmen."
"That's not true." Sherlock defended, though that was a rather stupid comment to make.
"Certainly it's not. Though Reginald could use their prejudices against me, if he needed to. And my record goes to show that I am a damaged man at heart." Trevor muttered with a sigh, dropping his head low as if he was too distraught to continue on. Sherlock hesitated now with his own bout of conversation, worried that the Professor would find his questions too appalling to be answered just yet. Especially when he was licking his own wounds, he would certainly not want to hear of Sherlock's triumphs in his own fight for true love.
"You're not damaged. Just because the two of us are in the minority does not mean that we're broken in any way." Sherlock insisted, to which the Professor gave a weak little smile.
"We're all optimistic until we get caught. They tell you things that you begin to believe, until at last you're injecting yourself with poison. Trying to fix yourself, when nothing was ever broken." The man gave a shiver, shaking his head before at last leaning it back against the tree trunk, staring through the thick branches of the willow tree at the sun where it was shining through some light and patchy clouds. Despite the sunshine it was still quite cold out, though Sherlock had chosen to ignore that for the time being. He had much more pressing matters on his mind than a mere chill.
"I came yesterday to ask you something, actually." Sherlock admitted, though his voice was wavering in a way that he did not appreciate. It sounded as if he was scared, though he wasn't afraid of the question, perhaps more of the answer. He was reluctant to ask; for fear that what the Professor told him would spoil his excitement for Saturday night.
"You usually do have the most peculiar questions." The professor agreed with a chuckle, still keeping his eyes on the sky in a very carefree and thoughtless sort of way. If only he might be able to be carefree, if only his mind would ever stop thinking and just relax for a moment. Sherlock wanted that for him most of all, just a moment of peace with himself and with the world he seemed to be fighting against.
"Well this question is one of the worst of them all. I hate to ask but...well I suppose I've got no other choice." Sherlock admitted quietly, to which the Professor at last leveled his eyes towards his companion. He looked a bit worried, as if he could only imagine what sort of question would make even Sherlock reluctant to ask.
"You worry me, Sherlock." Trevor admitted quietly.
"I worry myself." Sherlock muttered with a little shake of his head, his fingers at last slipping from the cold bark of the tree and allowing his arms to fold rather protectively over his chest. The professor was silent, waiting now for what Sherlock had to ask him.
"I may have made a promise to John...well something of a risky promise really. A deal of sorts." Sherlock admitted quietly. He hesitated, kicking his feet nervously in the dirt between the roots, finding these words incredibly difficult to say.
"Alright." Professor Trevor muttered, encouraging him to go on with a wave of his hand.
"Well I wanted to keep him from worrying too much about the war, because he's awfully sensitive. And his birthday is coming up, and he'll be eligible for the draft, so I thought that maybe I could keep his attention focused on what he normally cared about. I wanted him to worry about the game this Saturday, not any sort of Japanese conflict." Sherlock admitted, taking a breath and blinking a little bit to regain his composure.
"And...?" Trevor wondered. Sherlock sighed heavily, deciding that with most things it might be better just to get this over with.
"Well I told him if he won the game against Sandringham that I'd sleep with him, but I don't know how to do that and really don't know what I got myself into." Sherlock admitted at last, looking towards the Professor with a very innocent look about him, as if trying to beg him to divulge the information without too much of a protest. Professor Trevor gave a great groan, rubbing his eyes with very tired hands for a moment as he thought how best to articulate his answer.
"Sherlock, have I ever told you how much of an idiot you are?" he asked at last, letting his hands fall defeated to his sides and letting his exhaustive glare settle upon Sherlock once more. Sherlock gave something of an innocent smile, managing a little shrug in response.
"I've heard something of the likes." He admitted with a grin. The professor thought for a moment, as if trying to think of the most delicate way to answer the crude question he had been asked.
"That's quite the commitment you've made to him, Sherlock. And it's a quick transition from where you both were just weeks ago. Being so...intimate with someone, it's going to take a fair deal of trust on either side. That's an action that's inexcusable; it's not something you can just play off as youthful stupidity. If you sleep with John, the both of you have a much higher risk of getting into even deeper trouble." The Professor warned, to which Sherlock nodded quickly.
"I've considered that." he agreed. "But we both want to; even though neither of us have confessed I know that we're both in love. I know it."
"In my experience, men don't usually abandon their morals for a hobby. He's devious enough to go to his girlfriend when he's feeling...well when he's in the mood. He picked you, Sherlock. That is enough to be said, considering the generation we live in." Professor Trevor sighed.
"I know. That's why I figured we ought to be with each other, at least once, before the war begins to tear this world apart. Who know where we'll both be in a month, or even a year?" Sherlock said with a shiver, shaking his head and finally feeling the need to sit down. And so he arranged himself hesitantly in the grass, staring upon the Professor and waiting rather impatiently for the rest of his answer. Now that they've shared opinions on the deal, well Trevor still had to explain to Sherlock just what he was getting himself into.
"Alright so...so how does it work?" Sherlock asked at last, pulling his knees to his chest and rocking a bit nervously in the grass. Professor Trevor sighed, shaking his head in some reluctance as if he didn't want to share this information at all. Nevertheless he gave a quick grimace, before at last opening his mouth to speak.