Where Do We Go From Here?

Chapter Seven PREVIEW

“Wait, we’re doing what?”

Sometimes, depending on the day and his mood, Sherlock would question his acquaintanceship with one John Watson.

The boy could be so predictably dull.

“Need I repeat myself?” he bit out, eyes narrowed. “I didn’t expect you to be that much of a moron.”

John held his gaze steadily, lips pursed tightly. “No, I heard you the first time. I just needed confirmation.” he broke their gaze, turning to look ahead, an obvious beginnings of a scowl creasing his features. “We are currently skipping class to swing by Carl Powers’ grieving parents home just so you can interview them, so not only are we going to get caught but possibly arrested for harassment because, face it, you are anything but kind when  it comes to talking to actual people.”

“Actual people?” He frowned, trying not to let confusion cloud his voice.

“Yes, you know. Normal people.” John clarified, glancing at him.

“Aren’t you a normal person?” Sherlock asked skeptically, frowning at him. “You seem...you are normal.”
John snorted, adjusting his jacket as the autumn breeze kicked up to freezing. “Yeah. I guess I am.”

Sherlock turned, walking backwards gracefully, eying him warily. “I am kind to you, am I not?”

John actually laughed and the gesture sent a pang of hurt in Sherlock’s chest (why would he care, that was beyond him.) until the blond boy nodded and shrugged. “Yeah. I suppose. You’re kinder to me than most other people.” he admitted.

“You aren’t like most other people.” Sherlock said after a moment, watching him curiously. “You are...much different and less ordinary than you might think.”

The blond boy blinked, “I...thank you.”

Sherlock said nothing, turning on his toes and walking forward once again.

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“You were friends of Carl’s?”

John took a long sideways glance at Sherlock, ignoring the fact that the curly head teen ‘looked’ broken up and grieving (it was all just an act) before answering softly. “Uh, yes. Good friends. Very good friends.”

The woman swallowed, setting down two mugs in front of them, contents steaming steadily. “I...it’s nice to have you over.” she whispered, taking a chair across from them and chewing her bottom lip, brown eyes skirting around the kitchen nervously.

“Thank you for having us.” John attempted to sound strained, tried to clutch on to a memory of mourning to make his act more convincing.

He envied Sherlock for all the wrong things.

The woman smiled, but it was thin and didn’t reach her eyes. “May I ask why you did come over? Not that...that I mind. It’s just…” she shook her head, voice catching.

John gave her a sympathetic look, glancing at Sherlock once again (who had remained oddly silent throughout the whole ordeal). “We’re sorry, we didn’t mean to-”

“No, no. It’s fine.” she waved a hand dismissively, sniffing and holding her chin up. “I’m fine.”

Sherlock finally spoke, voice hoarse. “We are very sorry for your loss, Mrs. Powers--” he cut off and John tried not to roll his eyes.

“Oh dear! Shh.” the woman stood, going over to him and placing a caring hand on his shoulder. “It’s okay. It’s okay.”

Sherlock made a strange whimpering noise, nodding weakly and wiping at his eyes. “Right. Right.” he managed.

John stared in disbelief, anger and wonder. I’m going to end up killing him if he keeps this charade up.

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((A/N: Sneak peek! I'm just going to offer these up from now on before the actual chapter:) ))