To Date or not to Date
Life with Sherlock Holmes had proven to be an incredible, never ending adventure.
Even after “the incident” (they only called it that, never mentioned the words ‘swimming pool’ or ‘Moriarty’), their life didn’t slow down considerably, they still went to crime scene after crime scene, chased suspects and argued with the police (well, Sherlock did).
But sometimes even they had a free and quiet night; one where no one called or texted, where John could cook while Sherlock worked on some experiments or played his violin.
John loved those nights as much as he longed for action in his life.
It was one of these nights, when he looked up from his laptop and over to Sherlock, lying down on the couch and reading the paper.
“Say, Sherlock, there’s something that has bothered me for a while…” Sherlock gave an encouraging “Hm” and John continued: “When I first met you, why did your brother offer me money to spy on you?”
Sherlock lowered the paper and their eyes met. “Oh, he does that every time I meet new people who want to stay in my presence for longer than an hour”, he says, his voice even, bare of emotions.
John blinked. “Okay… creepy. Why does he do it?”
Sherlock shrugged. “Because he wants to know they really mean it. He also tried to seduce all the girls who showed even the slightest interest in me.”
“You are kidding!”, John exclaimed, his mouth hanging open.
“No, he wanted to make sure, they really wanted me.”
John gulped down his tea. “And what happened?” Sherlock’s eyes bore into his. “He slept with all of them.”
John didn't know what to say. He had actually started to like Mycroft Holmes – yes, he was arrogant, even more so than his brother, and terribly nosy but still a decent man. What Sherlock had just told him gave him some new insight on the man and he didn't like it one bit.
“Asshole”, he murmured and Sherlock grinned. “Ah, seems like you finally get why I tend to avoid him.”
John laughed, the spell was broken and the evening went on as it started: Peaceful.
Some hours later John was ready to go to bed, but there was one question left to ask. “What does your brother do, anyway?” He looked at Sherlock. “I assume, he works at the Home office? Permanent Secretary maybe?”
Sherlock frowned. “Why do you think so?” John gave a little wave. “Well, because he's in charge of so much, knows almost everything and seems to be able to even overrule the Prime Minister?”
Sherlock gave him THE look then, the one that said “I don't understand what your are saying and I am clever so maybe you are the mad man here?”
John shrugged. “Torchwood? No? Honestly, Sherlock, do you NEVER use the telly?”
He left the room, knowing without looking that his flatmate tried to stare a hole in his back to make him explain... but he wouldn't stop. He liked having the better of Sherlock Holmes.
***
The next days were filled with action again, two murder cases, one about a missing girl and one robbery. All of them were, according to Sherlock, boring and not worth his attention; he solved them anyway.
Lestrade finally kicked them out, before Anderson could start shooting the detective, which would have happened eventually, knowing the temper of both of them.
On the way home Sherlock didn't say a word and John knew better than to try talking to him. He knew how much his friend hated to be dismissed from work, especially because of an idiot like Anderson. But he also realized that it wouldn't be long before Lestrade called on them again – however petty the crime may be.
When they reached Baker Street Sherlock almost flew up the stairs into the living room, where he started pacing and cursing.
John let him be and started to make tea for both of them. He figured that Sherlock would like a cup as soon as he had calmed down.
He didn't have to wait long; Sherlock came over and sat down as soon as the tea was ready. They drank in silence for a while, before John realized that Sherlock was staring at him.
“Yes?”, he said, “Anything you want?” “Remember how you asked me about my brother a few days ago?”
John nodded, of course he remembered. “Well”, continued the detective, “I have a question for you myself.”
John looked up, quite surprised. “Don't say it is a question about me, you know everything about me.”
Sherlock frowned (a sight John has learned to like, he has seen it so often now). “Don't be silly, of course I don't. I don't know why you live with me.”
Seeing John's stunned face, he started to elaborate: “I am not a very sociable person, I know that. Most people hate me because I am clever and rude and arrogant. Life with me is dangerous. Still, here you are, and I like that very much. I like having you around, I WANT you to be around. But you know that my presence could kill you one day. So why don't you leave?”
Now it was John's turn to frown. “I am surprised you have such a good insight on your character, Sherlock.” He laughed. “Well, maybe I just like you.”
Sherlock stared at him, silent for once. “Oh”, he managed and looked down on his tea. “Alright then.”
John smirked.
Three days later and there had still been no call from Lestrade.
Sherlock not only got impatient, but intolerable.
Finally, John had enough. “Get up, Sherlock, we are going to the cinema.”
The detective didn't even bother to answer, but John insisted: “You need to get out of here, Sherlock, get distracted. I can't stand looking at you pouting anymore.”
“I don't POUT”, was the only answer he got, but Sherlock got up and took his coat nonetheless. “You know as well as I do that I dislike the cinema. The movies are superficial and too easy to explain. You won't be happy with it, I assure you.”
John smiled. “I think, the movie I have in mind will prove to be a challenge even to you, believe me.”
Sometimes, John knew exactly what he had to do to entertain Sherlock Holmes.
This was one of these times.
“Well?”, he asked, after they had left the theater. “What do you think about the ending?”
“It was the reality, of course”, came the prompt answer. “The father of Cobb never showed before, also the kids wore slightly different clothing and were a bit older. It's easy to explain.”
John grinned. “Well, seems like you didn't fall asleep then, like you did during 'Prince of Persia'. You also didn't get up to leave, as you did with 'Alice in Wonderland'. I figure, you liked it a bit then?”
Sherlock shrugged. “Well, it wasn't as dull as I expected. But the real reason why I didn't leave was because you seemed to enjoy it a lot – I didn't want to spoil it for you.”
John stumbled, he was surprised to hear Sherlock say something so considerate.
A strong hand caught his arm and stopped him from falling down.
His eyes met Sherlock’s, who gave him a strange look. “You alright?”
John straightened up and looked away. “Yeah, great. Um... wanna go and eat? Chinese, maybe?”
Sherlock nodded and they walked on.
“I get it”, the detective exclaimed suddenly. “This is a date.”
This time, John really fell. “A WHAT?”, he cried out, mortified at the smug look shown on Sherlock's face. “No, this is not a date... Whatever gave you this idea?”
His friend helped him up, opened the door to a Chinese restaurant and let John go in first. “Well, that's how this works, isn't it? You go see a movie and then eat in a restaurant. That's a date.”
They sat down in a quiet corner, which was alright to John, not everyone had to know what they were talking about.
“Wherever did you learn this stuff?”, he asked, completely horrified.
“From TV, of course. You said I should watch it more.”
John's head dropped into his hands. “I told you to watch telly, not some... soap!”
Sherlock smiled. “Careful, you are insulting every waitress who came to London to become an actress.”
At this moment, a young girl passed their table and gave them both a nasty look: She was the waitress, apparently. John wanted to be invisible RIGHT NOW.
“Look, Sherlock, this is no date. I just thought we could both do with some distraction, that's all. Okay?”
Sherlock took his hand and looked him into the eyes, a warm smile on his lips. “Of course, John, whatever you say.”
He moved his hand to the menu and started to look through it while John recovered from the shock. What was Sherlock's plan? Was he mocking him? Or – god forbid – did he really mean it? John couldn't believe it. This was so unlike Sherlock. No, it couldn't be true.
“What do you want to eat?”
Sherlock's question pulled him out of it and he decided on the spot for currychicken on rice.
They talked about the movie a bit more, while they waited for their food and every time, Sherlock casually touched him, he shivered a little.
“Your reactions are strange”, the detective said at some point. “It was you who proposed this date and now you treat me like I am doing something wrong. Calm down, please, people are looking.”
John grit his teeth. “This is no date, Sherlock. Honestly, a clever man like you should know that!”
His friend shrugged. “Well, I never had a lot of dates before, so I don't know the procedure very well. But... well, we live and work together, you are probably the only person in this world I don't see as an idiot and you like me, you said so yourself. So you see, I only think it's normal to move our relationship to the next base. That is logic, John, don't you think?”
As always, John had not much to say to this. “Relationships have nothing to do with logic, Sherlock, but with feelings.”
The detective nodded. “That is right. But as I said before: You like me and I like you, too. So there is no problem, right?”
John groaned and decided, he would just shut up, finish his chicken and wait until Sherlock forgot about this whole date business.
That this idea didn't work out so well was proven on the way home.
They hadn't been gone far, when Sherlock reached out and took John's hand into his.
“What...”, John tried to start, but was interrupted by the firm and warm grip on his hand.
“That's what people do after a date, right?”, Sherlock asked. “Hold hands while going home.”
“Yes, Sherlock”, John admitted, “but this was NO DATE.”
There was no answer so they resumed the way in silence, hands intertwined, until they reached their flat.
John moved upstairs first, but was surprised when Sherlock didn't stop at his own floor but followed him up. “What are you doing?”, he asked, as soon as they reached his door.
Sherlock smiled and put a hand on the door, right above John's head, who swallowed thickly. “What”, he wanted to ask again, but in that moment, Sherlock dipped his head down and kissed him lightly on the lips.
“It was a wonderful date, John, thank you. I'd like to do this again very soon.”
He went down the stairs, leaving behind a stunned John Watson who could do nothing more than stare after him and think: //But this WASN'T A DATE!!//
After a few minutes he managed to open the door, cross the room and fall onto the bed.
//He kissed me. Sherlock kissed me.//
“This was no date”, he whispered into the empty room. “It really wasn't.”
He remembered again the feelings of Sherlock's lips on his.
A smile spread on his face which soon broke into a giggle.
//I wonder if he knows that with this kiss he kind of made himself the girl?//
He changed and put his clothes away, but the giggle continued, even after he went to bed.
//Well, if he wants this to be a date so much... why not?//
He fell asleep with this thought, the smile still on his face.
