Be mine - A Teenlock/Johnlock

8. Holding hands

Sorry for the slow update; I was working on an editing project; and I didn't really had inspiration to write a new chapter; since my 'inspiration' was fixed on the video. My apologies :) Plus, I'm graduated! Uni here we come!

~

John and Sherlock were still standing in the back garden, sunlight danced with shadows, shimmering across their faces. The breeze, soft and gentle, brushed gently across them. John was desperated to have his Lionel Messi ball back. He couldn't believe that Sherlock just threw it away. But he didn't mind it though.

"Help me get over the fence." John demanded, looking at the hedge, trying to find a way to get over it. Since that the fence is too high for him, he needed help.

"What?" Sherlock asked confused, staring wide eyed.

"Push me up." John said, briefly making eye contact with Sherlock before returning his gaze to the wooden fence. There was a playful gleam in his eyes.

"John just ask it politely at the door. They could see you there." Sherlock sighed.

"Come on Sherlock." John whined. Sherlock sighed again as he rolled with his eyes. But he obeyed and walked over to the future doctor and folded his hands together so John could push himself up on them. John took a deep breath and put his foot onto Sherlock's hands. Once on, Sherlock pushed him up, allowing him to swing his legs over the fence. John tried to find a comfortable position on it, before scanning the back yard.

"Do you see anyone?" Sherlock asked.

"No." John whispered.

"Wait John." Sherlock said, making John stop before he jumps off.

"Wait I'll grab the ball first." John replied quickly.

"Alright then. But don't say that I didn't warn you." John puffed and landed on the grass.

"Okay I'm there." John said, out of breath, wiping away the dirt from his clothes. He then glanced around the garden for his ball.

"No really?" Sherlock said sarcastically, wiping his curls out of his eyes.

"Oh shut up." John said playfully and ran to the corner of the garden. The ball was laying motionlessly under the tree. He took it in his hands and spoke up again. "Got it." John yelled. Sherlock smirked, knowing that John was going to freak out in a couple seconds. "Going to throw it over the hedge. Will you catch it?" John asked.

"Okay." Sherlock said, not moving. John threw the ball over the hedge. Sherlock didn't move, his head following the ball, who was now bouncing down.

"Got it?" John asked.

"Yes." Sherlock lied, smiling widely.

"Okay now I ju-" John trailed off. Sherlock could hear him gasp and his smirk became bigger. "Sherlock!" John yelled. Sherlock just hummed in reply. "You're not here!" He paused. "How the hell do I get back?" He cried out.

"I wanted to warn you. But Mr Watson here didn't want to listen." Sherlock pointed out, his voice calm.

"What do I do?" He asked.

"I don't know." Sherlock chuckled.

"Sherlock, this is serious." John pointed out.

"Try to climb over it"

"How is that even possible, I'm not a giraffe." He muttered.

"There is no other way, just try it." Sherlock reassured.

"Okay." John sighed. Sherlock then heard weird noises, probably John failing to get up. After two minutes John was still trying everything he can. Sherlock was waiting, feeling bored. So he thought, maybe a little action would be fun.

"John!" He yelled, sounding panicked.

"Yes?"

"Hide! Someone is in that room above!" Sherlock warned, but he was lying. His name is Sherlock Holmes for something. It's not because he was starting to care for John Watson that he won't troll around with him. John gasped and ran away, hiding behind a tree. Sherlock began laughing hysterically, supporting himself against the wall. Sherlock heard John growl, loud footsteps approaching the fence.

"You're an idiot, for god's sake." John mumbled.

"I agree." Sherlock said proudly, his hand resting on his stomach because it was hurting from the laughter.

"Do you have a chair?" John asked.

"Yes?"

"Can you get a chair and pull me up with your hands?" He asked.

"I'm not strong." Sherlock defended. But he walked over to the wooden table that was standing next to the glass door. He took a chair in his hands and dragged it with him to the fence. His father would kill him if he saw the ruined grass. He then got onto the chair and stood on his tip toes. He was just tall enough to look down and see John smiling brightly at him. Sherlock rolled his eyes and outstretched his arms. "This won't work." Sherlock muttered.

John also outstretched his arms, and held Sherlock's hands tightly. At this point, Sherlock's face was covered in a slight blush and was avoiding eye contact. Even though John is crushing his hands, it felt like his hands are touching a pillow. He never had been in a situation like this. And god he loved this. Billions of thoughts were racing through his head. John was looking dubiously at him, his brows pursed together as Sherlock didn't move anymore.

Suddenly, a lone butterfly fluttered insistently round their heads, as if trying to get their attention. And they couldn't help but notice. It was beautiful; almost otherworldly. Graceful wings that fluttered and danced, coloured green, with red and gold accents. Sherlock frowned at the insect, but was glad that it broke the awkward silence between the two. He didn't know what got into him. The beautiful creature suddenly settled on Sherlock's nose, wings fluttering.

"Get it off me, John!" Sherlock yelled, not losing the grip with John's hands. John laughed.

"Where's my phone I need to have a picture of this!" John said amusingly, tears of joy running down his cheeks.

"Shut up, John!" Sherlock retorted. "Kill it!".

"Pull me up, then you have your hands back." John suggested. Sherlock nodded and after a lot struggling both were safe and well in Sherlock's garden, without a butterfly resting on Sherlock's nose. John immediately ran towards his ball, still laughing and sort of hugged his ball. Sherlock snorted.

"How old are you again?" He asked teasingly, rubbing his nose. John pursed his lips together and when Sherlock wasn't looking he threw the ball to Sherlock's pretty face. Sherlock whimpered, looking at John with disbelief.

"What was that for?" He asked. John ran to his ball and picked it up and gently threw it back in his garden.

"That's a stupid question." John said with a chuckle. Sherlock looked at John for a moment, before a soft laugh left his lips. John was looking around Sherlock's garden, finally having time to see his surroundings. It was gorgeous. The whole area heavily perfumed by a multitude of flowers. A stone pathway led you from the back door, all around the garden, to the stone water fountain or to the garden shed. John's eyes then paused as he saw a beautiful hammock in the middle of the garden. Without saying anything he strolled towards the hammock, trailing his fingers over the cloth. He then looked over at Sherlock, who was nodding at him. John smiled slightly and laid himself down with a content smile.