Where We Started

Molly Hooper Ruins Things

"So, we should probably get back now." Sherlock decided, breaking John's gazing train of thought and shaking him back to reality.
"Oh, ya, probably." He agreed, scooting off the log and into the water. It now seemed a lot colder than before, probably because he had gotten used to the warm air. Sherlock followed him in, winching as the water rushed around his ankles, and they started trekking back, this time against the current, which was considerably more difficult. But even though it was hard to walk it was also a lot easier to keep your balance, which made the whole walk a little bit boring compared to the last one, where Sherlock couldn't stay on his own two feet.
"So, when do you think they'll be back?" John asked as they approached their destination. He could see their shoes lying in the dirt where they had left them.
"Soon, probably." Sherlock shrugged. John nodded, knowing they'd have to do some shopping and water retrieving once again. They approached the pool when, instead of getting out, Sherlock quickly took off his shirt, making John step back in surprise, and did a surface dive into the pool. Sinking fully beneath the water once more before emerging with a smile on his face, spitting out river water in the process.
"Come on John, we've still got a little time." he pointed out, rising up so that his bare shoulders stuck out of the water. John's stomach did an uncomfortable twist, he didn't exactly want to go swimming at the moment, especially when it will obviously be the most potentially awkward thing he had done. But nevertheless, John played along, throwing off his shirt and walking up onto the sand, taking a running start and cannonballing so close to Sherlock he definitely got the entire splash radius. The water felt really good actually, this little pool was warmer than the stream itself since it wasn't moving too fast and it was directly in a sun ray. When John surfaced Sherlock was shaking water droplets out of his hair and face, but he was still smiling as if it were a loveable thing to do.
"You're a miserable thing you are." He decided, splashing John a little bit.
"Part of my charm I suppose." John shrugged. Sherlock swam upstream a little bit, going closer to the current so he could have a sort of infinity pool workout. John watched as his powerful arms pumped, taking breaths between strokes and looking quite like a professional swimmer. Finally he shrunk back, catching his breath and doing a flip in the water as he approached.
"I thought people in these days couldn't swim?" John pointed out.
"They can't, I taught myself here." Sherlock shrugged, gesturing around the little stream.
"How do you teach yourself to swim?" John asked with amazement.
"You go in the water and start flailing around a lot." Sherlock shrugged, obviously.
"It took four teachers and a life guard to just get me in the water." John remembered, smiling at the embarrassing memory. He had been fighting tooth and nail to get away from those people, when he was a kid he was terrified of sharks, and he was positive they would be popping out of the pool drains every other second.
"Well here it's about survival, in your day it's probably for recreation." Sherlock shrugged.
"Oh, so this is surviving? Looks like recreation to me." John pointed out.
"If your ship sinks and you don't know how to swim you are 95% dead already."
"Have you ever actually been on a ship?" John asked.
"When I'm rich I will." Sherlock shrugged.
"You're going to be rich? How?" John asked, a little bit doubtingly.
"No idea, but I will be." He pointed out.
"That's a good spirit. I thought you were going to stay with your family here?" John debated.
"They'll come with me."
"You just have your life planned out don't you?" John laughed.
"I suppose I have, yes. And as long as Irene isn't in the picture everything will be perfect." Sherlock said with a smile.
"I think you should be with Molly, you two would look cute together." John suggested, but even as he said it his stomach twisted and he felt a little bit angry.
"Of course I'm not going to be with Molly, I told you I had an impossible crush, maybe things would work out." Sherlock shrugged.
"Who is it though; you need to point her out when we get to town." John insisted.
"I don't think she lives around here, I saw her for the first time at the pub, didn't have much conversation but then I had to leave." Sherlock said with a shrug.
"Maybe she'll come to that Carl's birthday party on Friday." John suggested.
"Ya, maybe." Sherlock shrugged. John wondered who was nice and pretty enough to win Sherlock's heart of stone. John hoped he would be able to meet the lucky lady before he had to leave, if he leaves. Sherlock just went back to the current and swam while John bobbed up and down in the water, treading water and swimming around a tad bit. He wasn't an Olympic swimmer of course, and compared to Sherlock he could very well be a stick in the mud, but he could stay afloat, and that's what mattered. After a little while Sherlock gave up, climbing to shore and shaking his hair like a wet dog. John followed, running his hand through his hair in case there were stray leaves in them. They slipped halfheartedly into their shoes; John didn't even have his heels in his shoes, so now his sneakers were doubling as sandals.
"That was quite refreshing." Sherlock decided, walking a little bit ahead of John, not bothering to redress.
"I suppose so ya. You got a workout more than leisure though." John defended, hopping on his toes to try to catch Sherlock.
"It's worth it in the end; I don't have a job that allows for any flab." Sherlock shrugged.
"Obviously." John muttered before he could really process what he just said. Sherlock looked back and gave John a half smile, making John glow scarlet. "No, I didn't mean that I noticed, or I mean, I did, but I wasn't, you know...looking I'm going to shut up now." He stuttered, with every word he got even more embarrassed. What he had basically said was that he was checking out Sherlock's muscles, which was totally not true, it wasn't his fault that Sherlock still remained shirtless, which was totally expectable of course, but John wasn't looking at him or anything. Even in his mind he wanted to slap himself, he could talk himself out of this of course, but he had no idea how to put it in the right words.
"Probably a good idea." Sherlock agreed, chuckling softly to himself. John didn't say anything the rest of the trip back, he was sure that anything that came out of his mouth would be twisted into something that could be interpreted into something Molly was looking for, proof that they were in a relationship.
"So, we'll go check up on the police force, see just where Henry Knight is living these days, run errands, the usual." Sherlock shrugged as they approached the hut. There were lights on in the house, oil lamps flickering against the windows, so John had to be extra careful to sneak around closer to the walls and take his shoes inside with him. Once again he turned around while Sherlock changed into dry clothes, fully aware that he was going to have to trek around town with soaking wet jeans on.
"Do you want something to wear?" Sherlock asked, making John turn around. He was holding up a pair of faded jeans, the only everyday outfits he had apparently, and they very well could be the pants from yesterday.
"I'm good, and besides, you're a story higher than me." John shrugged.
"You could always roll them up." Sherlock debated.
"Like a mom in the eighties? No thank you." John laughed.
"The eighties, which century?" Sherlock asked. It was weird to think that even the eighties, John's definition of hundreds of embarrassing years ago, were still about three hundred years in the future.
1980's, with legwarmers and neon pants, we try to forget about it the best we can." John admitted with a small smile.
"Sounds like that would be a good idea." Sherlock agreed.
"We should probably get going, what time is it?" John asked.
"Around eleven, we can stop for lunch somewhere there." Sherlock decided.
"I don't want you to be wasting all of your money on me; I could just eat another loaf of bread really." John shrugged.
"Your 1665 experience should be genuine and luxurious, it is my pleasure to be housing a time traveler, and therefore you are not going to eat stale bread that the mice got to." Sherlock decided with a smile, ruffling his hair a bit to get the water out and stuffing them into the drawer again. "Ready?" he asked, making John nod feverishly and follow him out the door. John was still trying to think of a good response for Sherlock's complements; John didn't think he was that special of a person even if he had traveled through time. But Sherlock really did seem proud to have him; he was obviously fascinated by John's very presence. He was so unnaturally kind in John's mind, and he always smiled at him, no matter what the situation was apparently. By the time they reached the town John's stomach was growling and neither had spoken a word, although he could almost hear Sherlock's brain whirling.
"I'm starving." Sherlock decided as they entered the roads, casually stepping over a white wrapped body, swarming with flies and stinking of rotting flesh. Sherlock didn't even bat an eyelash, looking around for small places to eat.
"There's a small shop just over here, come along John, don't look at the bodies." Sherlock decided, casting a look over to John, who had just noticed a boy, couldn't be over 10, staring with bug filled eyes into the sun.
"It's awful." He decided.
"Not nearly as many though, obviously this quarantine is helping keep our streets sanitary." Sherlock decided.
"Where do they take them?" John asked.
"Some island, not sure where, I heard it's miserable though, they burn the bodies, barely care for the living, if you go there you're already dead." Sherlock shrugged.
"That's a cheery thought." John decided.
"What do you want me to say, it's Candyland?" Sherlock asked.
"Sugar coating would be better, it's awful what they do to humans here."
"What do they do in your time?" Sherlock asked. "This is called life and death, and at the moment life is more important. Once you get the plague you're already dead, there's no hope of cure, so they get rid of you."
"If you have a disease, doesn't matter what, they send you to the hospital and care for you until you die, even if you can't afford it, then the civilians pay for it in taxes later." John pointed out, but saying it out loud didn't exactly make it sound like Heaven.
"That sounds fair, help the local hobo who broke his leg trying to mug someone." Sherlock decided, approaching a small shop with a striped red and white canopy hanging over top. He opened the door, which rang a little bell announcing their arrival. Sherlock took a seat next to the window, a small, two chaired small table, and looked up at the counter. As if on cue, a short girl came scrambling up to them with a little notepad. 

"Two waters and two mozzarella basil sandwiches please." Sherlock decided, not even looking at the menus sitting in front of them. John nodded in agreement, not daring to interfere. He had no idea what this restaurant served anyway, so he'll just go with Sherlock's judgment. The waitress walked swiftly away to get their drinks, leaving the two of them to sit in the empty restaurant. Even though it was lunch time it was empty, people must not eat lunch out normally.
"So, what's on our list today?" John asked.
"Mostly groceries, need to pick up some fancy shirt Mrs. Hudson has requested, and cleaning polish." Sherlock shrugged, as if he had memorized the list himself.
"We forgot the wheelbarrow." John groaned.
"We didn't need it, trust me, we'll be fine." Sherlock assured.
"Last time my arms almost fell off." John debated.
"That's just because you're weak."
"I am not weak! I can pass the pull up test in gym, unlike some others." John boasted proudly.
"And even with your noodle arms we were able to get everything home alright." Sherlock said with a little smile. John just rolled his eyes, not in the mood to debate about his strength. He wasn't a body builder, sure, but he was still strong enough to get him through life.
"Should we stop at the police first?" John asked.
"I suppose we should, they wouldn't take us very seriously if I were carrying a frilly purple blouse." Sherlock agreed, making John laugh a little bit.
"Are you going to get dressed up for Irene?" John asked.
"I'm going to have to; the Hudsons want even the lowest of the household to look like a fancy rich kid." Sherlock pointed out.
"That's what I thought you were at first." John shrugged.
"Yes well, you also thought I was flirting with you." Sherlock pointed out. John groaned, regretting he had ever told Sherlock his first impression at the pub.
"I know you weren't." John muttered, blushing a little bit.
"If I had been flirting with you, we'd probably gotten married by now." Sherlock pointed out.
"Oh stop it, you know I'd never actually fall for it, I'm not like the girls in this town, and you're not that attractive." John laughed, which was, of course, a lie. But he was never actually interested in him, he just noticed, that was all.
"That's not how you came across when we were leaving the river." Sherlock pointed out, lifting a dark eyebrow with a half-smile. John immediately started blushing more, averting his eyes to the table so that he didn't have to look into those emerald eyes.
"That was me being really bad a choosing words." He pointed out.
"I think," Sherlock said, leaning over the table slightly, "That it..." Suddenly the door opened, making both of them jump out of whatever little moment they were having to see Molly, the girl from the library, standing in the entrance looking embarrassed and somewhat upset.
"Hi Sherlock, and, uh, Jeff...?" she said in a squeaky voice.
"John." John corrected with a smile. He didn't need to have an IQ of 190 to figure out Molly's bad timing, especially when the two of them had just been mindlessly sort-of flirting with each other.
"I've been looking around for you guys, found a book on some time travel stuff, thought you might find it useful." She said, digging a book out of a bag slung across her shoulder and handing it to Sherlock. Just as she did the waitress came over with their lunch, setting the food and drink down in front of the two of them. Sherlock nodded his thanks, looking more focused on his food than Molly.
"And thank you Molly, for looking around the library." John added with a friendly smile, one that was not returned. Obviously Molly still thought he was making this whole thing up, to get with Sherlock somehow, which was the stupidest theory John had ever heard.
"I still think this is all sort of crazy, but I hope I could help." She muttered. Sherlock just nodded, being rude as ever as he picked up his sandwich. John lifted the bread on his to examine, and like Sherlock had said, it was just mozzarella cheese, tomatoes, basil, and a little bit of olive oil spread around, looking more like an ancient Greek platter than anything.
"We appreciate it, really." John assured, seeing that Sherlock was done talking to her. "We were actually just going to stop by the police station to see about Henry Knight." Molly nodded, looking at Sherlock to see if he had anything to say to her in thanks, but he was more hungry than social.

"I think I should be going, got to go to work, I'll see you two around I guess." She shrugged, and with that she walked out the door, slamming it a little bit forcefully.