Just A Game [Teenlock]

Chatper Fifteen: Tea Makes Everything Better

Sherlock doesn't reply for a moment, shocked by all the pain buried in Jim's eyes now he's opened up. His eyes looked sad. Sadder than Sherlock had ever seen them. Sadder than Sherlock had ever seen anyone's eyes.

It broke his heart. His untouchable, cold heart that he'd locked away a not-so-long time ago. In that moment, it broke for Jim. For his best friend.

"Fair enough" Sherlock nods, eventually. "But stay for a cup of tea. Please?"

Jim gives a small chuckle and nods, finally- disappointingly- unwrapping himself from Sherlock's embrace. Sherlock had to beat down his inner demons that wanted to reach out and latch onto the Irish boy for as long as they possible could. They wanted to keep him close, protect him. Be anything he needs them to be.

Great, Sherlock thinks, now I'm starting to sound like bloody Jacob Black. And, he adds, I should be ashamed for knowing so many twilight references.

"Tea makes everything better" Sherlock finds himself saying as they leave the room and trail down stairs.

Sherlock's wasn't overly surprised to find his Dad sitting on the sofa, reading a book on the universe (utter rubbish in Sherlock's opinion). He supposes that he'd let Jim in.

When the two recently reunited boys enter the kitchen, a certain short blonde turns the colour of a cherry as he continues to slowly, very slowly, make tea for the three of them. Sherlock briefly glances at Jim before crossing the room to help make the tea- being the good host his mother would want him to be.

Jim slides onto a stool stationed at the island, not overly interested in the art of tea making.

Sherlock leans into John, a small smile on his lips. Ever the shameless flirt.

"Jim can't stay tonight.." He says, low enough that his father would hear nothing. And neither would Jim, unless he was closely listening. "So, after he's gone, if you want, we can..." Sherlock shrugs, almost dismissively.

John's eyes widen and he swallows, mind going into overtime. Before, in the heat of the moment, it was different. This is Sherlock asking a clear headed, still half naked, John if he wanted to climb into bed with him.

John knew that he really should say no. No, he doesn't want to be another point to Sherlock. He doesn't want to be left feeling used. Not just that but this was his first time with another guy. Surely he shouldn't give that experience to an arrogant teen that just wanted to bed him to get ahead in some game he'd made up with his friends to keep themselves amused. This was a boy who'd broken many hearts for the sake of saying he'd won. For a feeling of superiority and power. All John would be doing was encouraging Sherlock to go ahead and sleeps with as many people as he could, break any hearts he wanted and use people as he pleased.

Yet, even with all those logical reasons not to, all his mind was saying was: yes, yes, yes, Sherlock, Sherlock, yes, yes, yes, Sherlock, Sherlock.

God, he was an idiot. Say no. He should say no.

John finds himself nodding. "Oh, God, yes" He whispers.

The sound of a stool screeching back makes the two tea-makers jump back slightly. They both look towards Jim. He's standing, gripping his phone so tight that his knuckles are turning white. He's looking at the screen but even John can see that it's blank.

John's torn between smirking and feeling guilty.

Sherlock, the oblivious git, gazes at Jim in worry- not even realising what John could spot a mile away. It wasn't Jim's phone that made him react that way.

John can't help it this time, a small smirk takes over his features. Neither of the other boys notice, though, as Sherlock steps towards Jim.

"What's wrong, Jim?" Sherlock questions, voice riddled with concern.