He Loves Me, He Loves Me Not

Relationship Advice From My Eight Year Old

"You don't have to be nice to me you know, you don't need to help me out." John insisted.
"But I want to, of course. Being a single father, it's not as easy as it may seem, you've got to raise a child and meet all of the expectations all by yourself." Sherlock assured.
"Doesn't mean you need to pity me, I mean, I was able to do all of this without her." John muttered. As soon as he realized he had brought up his wife he sort of frowned, looking down at his shoes in embarrassment. He knew that everyone wanted to know what happened, most think Mary died, others think she left the family because things weren't working out; everyone wonders why John got Hamish in the end. He could feel these same questions floating around in Sherlock's head, but he was too polite to ask. John almost felt as if he had to tell him now that he had led up to it to no extent.
"She's not dead or anything." John assured.
"Oh, yes, I was wondering that." Sherlock agreed, sounding rather relieved. John looked up at him, wondering when he was going to ask what actually happened, but the question never came, and John nodded in appreciation.
"She left, um...for another man. I guess, I don't know, we weren't good enough." John shrugged, his throat feeling as though it were going to close. He had never spoken the truth out loud; he would never admit his true feelings to anyone. Usually he said things weren't working out, to people that deserved to know the truth he would say that he was the one that left her once he found out, that it was better this way and they had both felt like moving on. He never admitted to anyone that he thought he wasn't good enough for her, that she didn't love him or her son; he never told anyone that it still hurt. John hated pity, and for single parents, well, you get that a lot. Everyone wants to help you because they think you need it, that you can't handle raising a child on your own. In reality it's quite possible, difficult, but possible all the same.
"Well maybe it's a good thing." Sherlock muttered, and John looked at him in confusion. That was never what people said, they all said that they were sorry and asked if there was anything they could do. No one ever looked at a divorce optimistically. There was a bit of an awkward silence and they could hear Hamish shrieking with laughter in the yard, Redbeard's barks echoing across the development.
"What do you mean?" John wondered, and Sherlock just shrugged.
"Well, if she didn't think you weren't the one then she wasn't the one for you. It gives you an opportunity to find someone new, someone better, who won't leave your side." Sherlock suggested.
"No one's ever said that to me before." John pointed out, looking up at Sherlock peculiarly.
"Then maybe you haven't been talking to the right people." Sherlock decided, and John just laughed, finally breaking the awkward tension. Sherlock couldn't help but smile as well, and John thought it was the most beautiful smile in the world. A face so serious breaking into the most wonderful of smiles, it lit up the room in a way John had never seen before.
"Problem is I don't know where to look, everyone says that you meet your soulmate by chance, but I don't know how to just stumble upon my future wife." John admitted. Sherlock just shrugged, putting his hands in his pocket and looking very relaxed, a lot more comfortable than he was before.
"I don't know Mr. Watson; I suppose that's something you're going to have to figure out yourself." He decided.
"It makes me wonder if I've already met them and left them, you know? Those people you think would be a perfect match but it never really escalates to anything." John shrugged.
"Why wouldn't it?" Sherlock wondered. "If you think you'd be good together, why not try?"
"You don't have much girl experience do you?" John guessed, and Sherlock grinned guilty.
"Can't say I have, no." he admitted.
"Well it's not that easy, relationships are annoying, even if it's a known fact that they both like each other it takes forever to pluck up the courage to ask, just because it's sort of difficult you know? The what ifs, the embarrassment, it's all very technical." John pointed out.
"Why would you be embarrassed for liking someone?" Sherlock wondered. "It's your heart that's telling you what to do."
"Oh, you know how it is. Everyone judges you one way or another; it's all about social status and what your friends think and what everyone else would think." John shrugged.
"I think you're under the impression that we're still in high school." Sherlock pointed out, and John just laughed, nodding in agreement.
"Ya, I guess the only person that could judge me would be Hamish." He agreed.
"I have a feeling Hamish would accept anyone." Sherlock decided.
"He's really excited to get a new mommy, even though I told him it would take a while." John agreed.
"Have you met Molly Hooper, next to Mrs. Hudson's house?" Sherlock wondered.
"Oh, Molly, yes she came over to greet us last night." John agreed.
"She's a very nice woman; she really has other people's interests in mind." Sherlock pointed out.
"She's pretty, but I feel like she wouldn't be good for me, I feel like someone who's that nice has secrets." John decided.
"Fair enough." Sherlock agreed.
"What about you, you seemed to talk highly of her." John pointed out, and Sherlock just laughed, shaking his head and looking very amused.
"No, definitely not. I can appreciate a woman's personality but I have no interest in dating." Sherlock assured, holding his hands up defensively. John looked at him as if wondering if he were joking, trying to tell just what Sherlock had meant by that.
"So...you're single?" John asked. Sherlock just laughed, nodding and looking almost embarrassed.
"Yes, I'm single, but who would ever want to date me anyway?" Sherlock asked. John wrinkled his eyebrows, looking Sherlock up and down once more just to make sure he wasn't missing any rather obvious drawbacks. But of course he found none, and Sherlock Holmes remained as perfect as ever. It was almost unfair to be in the presence of someone so flawless, it made John feel inferior just standing next to him. Maybe that was the reason Sherlock was single, because the girls always wanted to be the attractive one.
"Sorry Sherlock, but I'm sure you could ask anyone on this earth to go out with you and they would jump right into your arms." John decided with a nod of positivity. Sherlock shrugged, but he seemed determined to talk himself out of this for some reason.
"I don't have time, as you can probably tell. A girlfriend seems to be nothing more than a distraction and a nuisance." Sherlock decided.
"You'll change your mind." John guessed with a knowing smile.
"What makes you say that?" Sherlock wondered, looking almost offended by John's lack of faith.
"Like you said, if your heart is telling you what to do, you've got to listen. You'll find the one you click with, and you'll want to be with them no matter how stubborn you are. You'll find someone." John assured. Sherlock smiled at him, a small, genuine smile that made John's stomach churn for some reason.
"Well until then, Mr. Watson, I will stay pure." He decided, his sharp, pale cheekbones glowing a little bit red.
"John." John corrected, and Sherlock looked at him in confusion, his smile slowly dropping.
"I'm sorry?" he wondered, looking guilty as if he had missed something.
"You can call me John, not Mr. Watson. That sounds too formal." John decided.
"Alright then, John it is." Sherlock agreed, smiling once more but in a different sort of manner. This one seemed almost, well, flirtatious. But then again Sherlock probably had no idea what he was doing; he had never had a girlfriend so he probably didn't even know what the word flirtatious meant.
"Well I best be going, I've got some hydrangeas to plant before dark." Sherlock decided.
"If you need some help I'd be happy to come over." John offered.
"Oh no Mr. Watson, John, I'll be fine." Sherlock assured, and John just smiled at his correction.
"Alright then, thanks a lot for coming over, a owe you one." John muttered.
"You owe me nothing John; it was a favor for a friend." Sherlock assured.
"A friend." John muttered, and Sherlock nodded confidently.
"I'll see you around Mr. Watson." He decided, turning and starting towards the front door.
"John!" John called back at him, and Sherlock just laughed.
"I'll see you around, John." he corrected, and with that he walked out the front door and was gone. Hamish walked in not a moment later, covered in sweat with his pants all dirty, as if he had fallen in the mud or something.
"What were you doing out there?" John asked with a laugh, noticing all the freshly cut grass sticking to his son's clothing.
"Playing fetch with Redbeard." Hamish said with a shrug.
"Rather odd name for a dog, don't you think?" John wondered, and Hamish shrugged again, as if he hadn't given it much thought.
"I guess so, if you think about it. Sounds like a pirate's name." he decided.
"Ya, it does." John agreed. "Go wash up, maybe take a shower, I'm going to heat up that casserole for dinner tonight."
"Ew, really, we're going to eat that?" Hamish asked with a whine.
"Yes, we're going to eat that. And then after dinner I want to go shopping, get you school stuff and get some food from the grocery store. I'll call the school tomorrow; see what they want you to do." John decided.
"I don't have to go tomorrow, right?" Hamish asked in a whine.
"No, I won't make you go tomorrow, but the day after that you'll be on your way." John decided. Hamish groaned loudly, dragging his feet as he started up the stairs to go shower. John just sighed, not really in the mood to go shopping but it was necessary, and at least that meant they didn't have to eat any more of this tuna casserole. John spent about ten minutes trying to heat it up, not sure if it was supposed to be served hot or cold, but he just peeled the plastic off the top and put it in the oven for a little bit. When Hamish came back downstairs John was wrestling with the radio, trying to get some rock and roll on to listen to while they ate. He was showered and dressed in a pair of jeans and a tee shirt with a truck or something on it, his hair dripping with shower water but he didn't seem to mind.
"Good shower?" John wondered, finally getting some sort of signal from the radio. It was playing some sort of eighties hits, which of course wasn't going to do, so he flipped from station to station until he could finally get some good tunes.
"It smells awful in here." Hamish decided, and John just shrugged guiltily.
"Sorry to disappoint, nothing I can do about it, that tuna's all we got." He admitted.
"Couldn't we just go out to dinner?" Hamish whined.
"Let's give it a try, and if it's horrible we'll go out, if not we'll just grin and bear it, and tomorrow night I can make some pasta, if I can find the pots and pans." John decided. "Speaking of which, could you go try to find some plates, forks, and cups for us? Should be in the box labeled kitchen."
"Alright." Hamish agreed with a long sigh, as if it were such a huge inconvenience. John made sure the tuna was all warmed up before fishing it out of the oven the best he could without oven mitts. He grabbed the sides with some paper towels that had been left on the roll, feeling the intense heat through the towels and nearly throwing the pan onto the stove to cool.
"Alright, dinner is served." John said sarcastically, watching as the casserole bubbled rather suspiciously. Hamish returned to the table, balancing two plates, two cups, and two forks rather dangerously. Thankfully he made it to the table without any shattered glass and John carried the casserole over to the table.
"Nice to have somewhere to eat, isn't' it?" John asked with a laugh.
"I liked eating on the porch, but plates are nice." Hamish decided, watching as John sawed through the casserole with his fork, making a very uncomfortable squishing sound. Hamish cringed as John scooped out a rather large piece for himself, giving Hamish a smaller piece just in case he didn't like it very much. John expected it to be horrible, but when he actually gave it a try he found that it wasn't that bad. In fact, it was rather delicious.
"Good, isn't it?" John asked Hamish, not bothering to hide the surprise in his voice.
"It's not as bad as I thought." Hamish admitted, but he ended up asking for seconds. In the end they had nearly eaten the entire casserole, leaving a little bit left for a midnight snack or something, and wrapped the plastic back over the pan and put it back in the fridge. John was feeling considerably better now that he had eaten, and he was excited about going to get groceries, that will make this place feel more inhabitable. In fact there was this sort of air of happiness surrounding everything he did, he didn't know what it was, maybe it was the fact that he was on his own, in a new house and living his own life. But he doubted it; to be honest it felt like there was something else, maybe someone else, making his life seem so optimistic. He couldn't think of it though, it must be the excitement of living in a new house, going out to explore the shops around town and maybe meet some new people. That's probably it, as Sherlock said he was going out to try to run into his soulmate. He had to imagine that there was someone out there that he clicked with. The thought that maybe he could find another wife made him considerably happier, and he grabbed his wallet and keys with confidence as he herded Hamish into the car and headed out the driveway.
"So what were you and the gardener talking about?" Hamish wondered as they drove down the main road, looking out the windows for any noticeable attractions.
"His name is Sherlock Holmes." John corrected. For some reason that name brought a rather odd feeling to him, as if he were floating even though he was obviously still sitting in his car. Sherlock Holmes.
"Alright, what were you and Mr. Sherlock talking about then?" Hamish wondered, fiddling with his seatbelt as he looked at his father from the backseat.
"Oh you know, just adult things." John shrugged.
"Like what?" Hamish asked, obviously not giving up so easily.
"Boring adult small talk, you know, taxes, marriage, kids." John shrugged.
"What did he say about marriage?" Hamish wondered.
"What makes you so keen on finding out?" John asked with a laugh, looking at his son in the rear view mirror to make sure he was still Hamish and not some spy that wanted to know John's inner feelings.
"I don't know." Hamish admitted with a shrug, sounding almost guilty.
"You're obsessed with marriage Hamish, is there something you want to admit to me?" John wondered.
"Well, at school one of my friends told me that it was now legal for a boy to get married to a boy." Hamish admitted, getting a little bit red with embarrassment and toying awkwardly with the coupon book John kept in the backseat. John just laughed rather nervously, wondering just what his son thought of him.
"Are you saying that I should get married to Sherlock?" John wondered, his voice getting a little bit caught in his throat. Suddenly the grocery store seemed very far away, and he did not want to discuss his sexuality with his eight year old son.
"Well, I mean, you can, can't you?" Hamish wondered, looking up at his father in confusion. Obviously he saw no problem with this, which was a good thing, raised to accept everyone. But the problem was John wasn't gay, and even though Hamish might want him to go out and marry some gardener he had just met, John didn't share the same opinion.
"I can marry him if I wanted to, but I don't necessarily want to. If you like someone of your same gender that means you're gay, and I'm not gay." John muttered, feeling extremely uncomfortable. Mary would've handled this situation a lot better than he was, she would've somehow changed the subject to cookies or sports or something, she had always been good at that. Maybe that was the reason they didn't work out, because she always avoided the topics she didn't want to talk about.
"Why aren't you gay?" Hamish wondered, and John couldn't help but laugh.
"Hamish what makes you think Sherlock and I would even be a good couple?" John asked, giggling at his son's mindset.
"I don't know, you two sort of..." he sighed, ending his own sentence quickly.
"What do you mean, come on Hamish you need to back such ludicrous accusations with some evidence." John insisted.
"Well, you look at him the way you used to look at mommy." Hamish said finally, scrunching up in his seat as if ashamed for even pointing that out. John was silent, keeping his eyes fixed on the road, trying to pretend that he hadn't even heard that statement. Hamish was quiet as well, and John was stuck staring blankly in front of him, trying to figure out if what Hamish had said was true or not. I mean, sure, Sherlock was a reasonably attractive man, but that didn't mean that John was in love with him. Hamish was just seeing things, as usual. He was desperate to have another parent, which John hated, of course. He didn't like that his son was disappointed in him, he hated that their divorce had severed their family and left a growing boy without a mother, but it wasn't his fault. He couldn't just pull a wife out of thin air, and if Hamish was trying to hook John up with everyone he came into contact with, then they would have problems.