•Teenlock•Parentlock• If All Else Fails

7• Another Disasterous Dinner.

"Sherlock your phone!" John said, the morning after. Sherlock groaned. He had had one to many drinks last night. His head pounded and his ears rang.

"Ugh, can you get it? I'm sick." Sherlock announced, cocooning himself in the bedsheets.

"Fine." John said. "I'm only carrying two people inside of me, Sherlock." He muttered afterward, quietly. He picked up the phone, not bothering to check the caller ID. "Hello?" He asked, a little irritated.

"Sherlock, dear?" A soft but elderly female voice said.

"No, it's John. Who's speaking?" John answered, sitting at the table and doodling on his coursework.

"It's Mrs Holmes, John. May I speak with Sherlock?" She asked, John smirked at how posh she sounded. He knew where Sherlock got it.

"Yeah, I'll just get him." John replied. He covered the microphone on the phone with his hand. "SHERLOCK! IT'S YOUR MUM!" He yelled, smiling to himself when Sherlock groaned at his volume.

"Shhhh!" Sherlock hissed at him, coming out of the room in a pair of pyjama trousers. He snatched up the phone with a scowl, making John smile.

"Hello Mother." Sherlock said, flopping on the sofa, rubbing his temples.

"Sherlock! Darling! Your father and I," Sherlock heard a grunt from his father in the background, "Want you and John to come over for dinner tonight! It'll be lovely! Since your father hasn't met John yet."

Sherlock sighed. "It's not like he wants to." He sulked.

"Sherlock Mycroft and Annabelle will be there! You remember Annabelle?"

"Yes." Sherlock said stiffly. He was so tempted to ask how 'Mycrofts boyfriend' felt about that, but he kept his mouth shut.

"Good! It'll be like a family get together." Sherlocks mother said, happily. "Be at ours tonight at seven, dear. Casual wear." She hung up.

••••••••••••••••••••••••

John walked out the door, his coat warming him to the autumn cold. Sherlock followed wrapping his scarf around his neck. John was chewing on his nails as he looked to the bump. "I don't think I should drive Sherlock." John said.

"What? What's wrong? Tell me! John! John speak to me!" Sherlock panicked.

"Nothing's wrong! Stop worrying!" John said, stroking his boyfriends hair outside the old car. "I just don't think I can fit behind the wheel!" He blushed. "Can you drive?"

"Well... No." Sherlock said, facing the other way. "Not legally anyway."

"You don't have a drivers licence? Your almost twenty!" John exclaimed humorously.

"Shut up. It's frustrating." Sherlock murmured. "Motorbike?" He suggested.

"Yeah!" John missed the thrill of riding on the back of the fast bike. (I know it sounds wrong shhh)

"No, the babies." Sherlock sighed.

"Oh. I'll call a cab." John said, deflated.

"And cheer up." Sherlock said, a fake smile on his face. "Remember how much your love my parents."

"I'd go on holiday with them in a heartbeat." John muttered sarcastically.

The cab came too quickly for John's liking. He was nervous but he didn't understand why. He didn't give a flying fuck what anyone thought, so why did it matter? They were just Sherlocks parents, even he didn't like them. But then again, Sherlock didn't like anyone. He sighed, feeling irritated.