A Photo Of John

Chapter 3

Their ride to the restaurant was rather tense. There was so much to be said, and the unspoken words hung in the air, like those humid days when you feel like you can cut the sky with a knife. They both stared out opposite windows, deep in thought. John was trying to figure out why he had kept the photo, why he pushed him out. Why he lied to him. Sherlock was deciding what to tell John. He couldn't say the picture had sentimental value, could he? No. It would blow his cover, rip his mask off, tear down his wall. He couldn't do that. His wall kept him safe and saved him from rejection and depression. By the time they arrived Sherlock was still undecided, debating weather to tell John the truth.

They arrived at the small local Thai restaurant, and the owner greeted them with grateful smiles. Sherlock had solved his wife's murder and had brought the criminal to justice which of course bought them a free meal and free alcoholic beverages. They sat down at the small table, that should probably only serve one person. The place was packed with people, laughing, arguing, the small wails of babies, all disturbing to Sherlock. Hell! Sherlock thought it was annoying when stupid people even "thought" aloud! After looking at their menus for a few moments, John finally spoke.

"I think I'm going to have the miso soup. You?"

"The same."

There was silence.

" So Sherlock, care to explain the photo?"

Sherlock grew a bit nervous, he was hoping he had more time.

" Let me use the restroom first." John rolled his eyes.

Sherlock briskly walked off into the swarm of people. He entered the run down bathroom and slammed the door. He turned the cool, flowing water and brought it to his face, and looked in the mirror. He had a slightly bluish coloring under his eyes from lack of sleep, and his face a little thin from lack of nourishment but it looked like it always did. He couldn't see why anyone had ever found it attractive. He personally thought his cheekbones were too sharp, making him look abnormal. Not "cool". John had a soft pleasant face. Gentle and kind, good intentions. A lovely smile. Things he could never have. He decided to stall for as long as he could until he had no choice but to answer his question. Only then would he immediately decide. It was foolish but easiest for him. When he felt refreshed enough, he left the restroom and returned to the table. Surprisingly their soup had arrived already.

John stared up at Sherlock's face, and marveled at it. He always felt like it was chiseled from marble, such perfection, such beauty. He had no idea why he spent any time with John, why he valued him so much. He looked down. To himself he was just a broken doctor, hiding his wounds with jokes and girlfriends that never worked out and crap TV. Sherlock was brilliant and quite an attractive man, John didn't deserve his company. The thought disturbed him, that Sherlock would drop him and leave him when he lost interest, which in John's mind was sure to happen soon.

"John?"

John looked up from his soup, " Sherlock?"

Sherlock looked concerned. " What's wrong? Did I do something?"

John looked away slightly embarrassed. " No it's... nothing."

"John. You can tell me."

" I don't think you would understand."

" I can try -"

" No. Just forget it. It wasn't anything important."

John started taking small sips of his soup. Sherlock broke the silence.

" I think we should get this to go. If we're going to talk about personal matters then I suggest we talk in a private place."

"But-"