When We Were Young

Convince Yourself To Be Happy

John POV: It may have been denial that ended him up here, in the midst of smiling faces, congratulating back pats, and shouts of glee emitted from the ever so excited Greg Lestrade. And so he had done it, somehow, and for reasons unknown, he had actually brought himself to mutter the words that had been pressing against his tongue for months now. And yet it wasn't the kind of question that he had been asking himself, it was more the question that everyone was anticipating, come to pass simply by motivation and expectations. And so now Mary Morstan was his girlfriend, officially. It was an odd feeling to now be taken, and it was making his life even more agonizing. Now there was a double wall keeping him from Sherlock, one that took the shape of Mary and the other that resembled Victor. Maybe it was in spite of Victor that John had finally asked Mary out, or maybe he wasn't only trying to convince that horrible leather clad mollusk that he wasn't in love with Sherlock, maybe he was trying to convince himself as well. Well obviously he was in love with Mary, now that he had forced himself to be it seemed as though the effort was quite worth the reward, for even now John was beginning to feel kind of...happy. Successful, maybe was the better word, and in the midst of all of this excitement his heart became confused, and it began to feel as though it may just be satisfied.
"So dinner, tomorrow night, with her?" Greg wondered as the two of them drove home together that afternoon. Greg liked to get rides from John, his excuse of course was carpooling to prevent global warming, however John knew that Greg just didn't like to be alone. Driving was always an agonizing process for him, especially when there was no one in the passenger seat, and so Greg took to accompanying John under the false impression that he too hated to drive alone.
"Ya, ya I guess so. Where you do you even take a girl around here? What type of food does she like, and how expensive is it going to be? You know I'm broke...and she'll probably expect me to pay." John pointed out miserably, changing the radio station a couple of times before he settled on some sort of guitar solo playing the midst of a song he didn't recognize.
"Oh I don't know; take her to Italian or whatever. That's always a falsely fancy meal, simply because the restaurants are decorated like they're gourmet but you always get cheap, mediocre meals. Maybe you can even settle with sharing a pizza, that's the best cheat." Greg suggested with an encouraging smile.
"Ya, but I don't really like Italian. Do you think she'll settle for that old burrito..."
"I'm going to stop you right there, and pretend I didn't hear that." Greg decided finally, holding up his hand for silence before gazing out the window at the rolling desolate country side.
"I'm nervous already." John admitted finally.
"There's nothing to be nervous about, I'm sure she's been waiting for that kind of proposal for months now." Greg assured with a shrug. John looked at him quickly before running through what he had actually said in his head, trying to remember anything he may have mentioned about marriage...
"Wait, I didn't propose. I just asked her out." John reminded him.
"Proposal is a fancy adult word for question; I didn't actually mean you proposed marriage." Greg assured sarcastically, to which John sighed a breath of relief.
"You think she's the right girl for me though? Like really, out of all the girls in the school, do you think she's my other half?" John wondered uncertainly, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel and trying not to feel that obnoxious sense of emptiness and dissatisfaction...
"John that's really not a question to ask five minutes after you asked her out. What are you, trying to get out of it or something?" Greg asked with a little snicker.
"No I'm not, I'm sure it would be fine it's just..." John sighed, shaking his head. "Oh I don't even know."
"Do you have your eye on someone else now?" Greg asked curiously, to which John shook his head even more agressivley. This was his own form of denial, and it was obvious that Greg fell for it, for he was always very easily manipulated by apparently strong emotions. He would never suspect John's itty bitty distraction with the boy next door, purely because it didn't mean anything and it surely wasn't going to amount to anything. In fact, John didn't even know if Greg was aware of the newly blossoming neighborly relationship that was springing up between Sherlock and John. Nor did he know about Victor's attack a couple of nights before. John hadn't mentioned that to anyone, purely because he didn't want to have to explain Victor's motives for such an attack.
"of course I don't, I'm just now wondering if the girl I do have my eyes on is the right choice. I know she likes me, that's why I asked but..." John sighed heavily. "You know what, forget it. I'm just nervous."
"Ya mate, just roll with it for a couple of weeks, see if you like her or not. Give me enough time to get talking to Molly, and then you can dump Mary." Greg assured with a smile.
"Well at least I know you're supporting this for my own good." John grumbled sarcastically.
"Of course I'm supporting you! And of course, I'm also just a tad bit self-interested, but honestly that's irrelevant to the conversation. What's good is that you got your girl, and what else is good is that I might get mine next." Greg said with a smile. They pulled up at John's house and parked in the driveway, Greg getting out and stretching his legs while John sat in the car for a moment and stared at the rear view mirror, watching the silent house across the street as if expecting it to come to life and display what he might want it to. However the house was still, as was the road around it, and so John climbed out of his car and grabbed his backpack, locking the doors and leaning against the hood for a moment while waiting for Greg to get himself organized.
"That's where Sherlock lives, right?" Greg wondered, looking across the street at the house that held the angel. John nodded glumly, pulling at his backpack straps and glancing towards the house miserably.
"Ya." John agreed, locking the car doors once more for good measure before leading the way inside the house.
"Mom, Greg's here!" John announced as they walked through the front door.
"Hi Greg!" called Mrs. Watson's voice from somewhere inside the house, presumably from inside the kitchen.
"Hi Mrs. Watson!" Greg called back cheerfully, the two of them dumping their backpacks near the door (because of course they weren't actually doing homework) and starting their way upstairs.
"Can we go steal Cinnamon from your sister?" Greg asked hopefully, flopping on the bed and looking hopefully at the door. John looked at him very curiously, before nodding in recognition and sinking into his desk chair with a sigh.
"You mean the hamster right?" John clarified.
"Ya, of course I mean the hamster. He's so cute." Greg admitted with a little smile. John didn't have the heart to remind him that Cinnamon had died two months ago, and so he just shrugged.
"Harry doesn't let me touch him anymore, ever since I dropped him from the dresser." John lied.
"Well maybe if I got him there wouldn't be an issue." Greg suggested, to which John just shook his head.
"Just leave Harry alone, she's all touchy ever since the parents have been pasturing her about college." John suggested, to which Greg let his head fall back onto the mattress carelessly, finally giving up on whatever Cinnamon escape plan he was trying to conjure up.
"Ya alright." He mumbled finally.
"The pool should be open soon. I'm hoping to have some sort of party, maybe that can be the first mixer between Mary's friends and mine." John suggested, spinning himself back and forth in the chair lazily.
"That would be fun." Greg agreed. "You don't think Molly's got her eye on someone, do you?"
"Well I mean, other than you I doubt it. How could anyone compete with your brilliance?" John joked.
"No seriously, you don't think the reason she doesn't like me is because she's in love with someone else? Maybe she's got some sort of secret boyfriend? Someone in college already?" Greg wondered nervously. John shrugged indifferently, not necessarily worried about who Molly did and didn't love.
"I don't know, maybe you ought to ask her." He recommended, to which Greg just scowled, shaking his head aggressively.
"No of course I'm not going to ask her, that's preposterous." Greg murmured.
"Then don't ask her, and never know." John sighed. Greg was silent for a moment, maybe he was thinking about the best way to ask Molly if she was unattached or maybe he was just thinking about something else entirely.
"You seem glum, especially glum for a guy who just got a dazzling new girlfriend." Greg observed.
"I'm fine." John lied.
"You're not. Greg insisted, sitting up finally and kicking off his shoes so that he could cross his feet on the bed without getting in trouble. John looked at him carelessly before spinning the chair quietly towards the window, the curtains open, revealing the black car that now made its way slowly down the road. The car stopped in the Holmes's driveway and two figures stepped out, one immediately lighting a cigarette and the other lingering nervously next to the passenger door, as if waiting for permission to go inside. John watched Sherlock for a moment, exhaling heavily and wondering what words were being exchanged out there, far enough away that he couldn't hear a single utterance.
"Did you see that black eye that Sherlock had?" John asked, changing the conversation entirely.
"What, last week? Ya I noticed it, I didn't think anything of it though." Greg admitted carelessly, craning his neck to see what John was seeing, all the way down there in the opposite driveway.
"How do you think he got it?" John wondered thoughtfully, watching as Victor leaned up against the car door and raised his cigarette to his lips. Sherlock said something before grabbing his backpack and disappearing into the house, leaving Victor to stand at his car alone. He looked troubled.
"Well I don't know, I don't really think about that kind of stuff." Greg admitted, sounding a bit nervous, as if wondering why that might be on John's mind.
"Do you think it was Victor?" John wondered as he watched that little figure smoking his cigarette, looking so small and harmless, looking like an ant that John could just squash from this height.
"I don't like to stereotype, and you really shouldn't either. Just because he wears a leather jacket doesn't mean he's abusive, I mean there are loads of different reasons that he might've gotten that black eye, it doesn't mean that Victor did it." Greg murmured.
"He attacked me the other day, Victor did. At the game." John admitted finally, speaking his mind without really thinking on what he was actually saying. Why would he admit something to Greg, why would he even bring Sherlock up in conversation?
"He attacked you? Why on earth would he attack you?" Greg asked cautiously, sounding both concerned and amused, as if the thought of John getting beat up by Victor Trevor was something humorous.
"I don't know, maybe you ought to ask Victor that. But he did, he strangled me." John admitted.
"Maybe because he saw you watching them at the game, maybe he thought you've got eyes for Sherlock." Greg suggested with a laugh, acting as though the idea was just preposterous.
"Which I don't." John murmured.
"Which you don't." Greg agreed flatly. John nodded, glaring at Victor through the window pane and feeling a sharp pulse of anger, feeling the need to go down and confront him, question him...
"Just stay out of it mate, whatever it is. I know that he's your neighbor, but it's not really your problem. Sherlock's a big boy, he can handle himself." Greg assured flatly, to which John just nodded, although not all together convinced.
"Ya, ya I guess he is." John agreed with a sigh, turning his chair back to face the wall so that he didn't excessively stare at the boy outside, just so that he didn't stray into conversations that he might ultimately regret. Greg really didn't have a reason to be there, and so they spent the rest of the afternoon watching sports and talking about proper date etiquette. Greg helped John pick out his clothes, which ended up being a semi casual button down checkered shirt, one that Greg thought would be nicer than what he usually wore but not too nice for a regular restaurant. Then he very briefly walked John through what to do and what to say, and how many complements were too many. He said that John should space them out in increments of ten minutes, just to make sure they didn't sound rehearsed, however to miss one in that span of time would be dreadful. At least that's what Greg claimed. John was only half listening, for he was still trying to process the idea that he was actually going to be going out with Mary, and he was trying to think about just what that meant for his life. It would become a lot more interesting, that was for sure, with a lot more socialization and a lot more money and a lot more dressing up, looking fancy, and meeting people that he had to impress. Her parents, for one, were a daunting task that he knew he would have to face one day, for girls always sought the approval of their parents. John was sure that his parents might only get the chance to catch a glimpse of her from their window, if that, for he was never going to mention his new relationship status or anything like that. Greg seemed very enthusiastic about John's date going perfectly, and frankly John was beginning to suspect that Greg cared an awful lot more than he did about this whole thing. Greg's relationship with Molly was seemingly on the line; however that didn't concern John very much at all. In fact he was entirely indifferent to this whole thing, it was social pressures and the slightest tinge of attraction that had brought it all to pass after all. When Greg finally left John meandered downstairs to where his family was waiting for dinner, all of them chanting out choruses of farewells as Greg walked out the door and as John sank into his respective seat at the table.
"So John, Harry tells me you got a girlfriend!" Mrs. Watson exclaimed immediately, to which Harry donned a pleased smile and John's face turned almost as red as the pasta sauce set in front of them.
"What? Harry, what the heck?" John growled, turning towards his sister maliciously while she pretended to be naive to the troubles of announcing relationships to the family.
"What, it's the talk of the school, surely you're proud?" Harry sneered, giggling as Mrs. Watson turned all her questions on John, pressing him for little facts like what's her name, what does she look like, does she get good grades, who does she hang out with, who here parents are, etc. and so on. John groaned, spewing out answers miserably while his mother chatted happily away. Mr. Watson was silent, eating his food as if he couldn't care less about his son's new girlfriend. Maybe he suspected that it wouldn't long, that or he decided that he would get all the information he needed from his wife's rapid fire questions.
"You know I'm so proud of you John, your first girlfriend!" Mrs. Watson exclaimed happily. "You know we were actually starting to wonder..."
"Wonder? Wonder about what?" John growled, looking about his family to which is father suddenly averted his eyes, and Harry's smile began to grow.
"Oh nothing dear, nothing." Mrs. Watson assured rather timidly, as though she was upset with herself for even mentioning such a thing. Now Harry was starting to laugh, all while John's suspicions began to grow, what on earth were they suspecting about him, and what did a girlfriend change?
"Wait, you didn't think I was...." John started, cutting off his sentence intentionally, not wanting to say the word however he knew the whole family was thinking it.
"Well no, no of course we didn't John we were just wondering why a popular boy like you didn't have a girlfriend yet. We just thought maybe you weren't interested." Mrs. Watson assured with a shrug, trying to make it seem like some sort of family conspiracy was really nothing to worry about.
"It's a reasonable assumption, considering that wedding game you used to play." Harry snickered. John felt his face grow redder by the second, for as soon as Harry mentioned it those memories resurfaced, back when he was younger, memories that he really didn't want to think about right now.
"We were five years old!" John defended. Harry burst out into laughter, and both parents sprouted guilty smiles as they remembered what John was longing to forget.
"Oh ya! You and Sherlock had a wedding, I remember that!" Mr. Watson said with a laugh.
"Come on dad, not you too! That was enough to make you think I was gay? For like...twelve years?" John wondered with a growl, trying quickly to steer the conversation out of these troublesome waters.
"If we looked hard enough we might be able to find pictures, you invited both families I remember that." Harry said with a laugh.
"Harry we were five! And I think you married Mycroft too!" John defended.
"Nah, I left him on the aisle. Even back then I knew I was too good for him." Harry laughed.
"Ya, he's in grad school now Harry, and where are you?" John growled. "Too good for him."
"You kissed Sherlock, I remember that!" Harry added immediately.
"Oh just shut up, this is irrelevant to the conversation!" John insisted, growing completely paralyzed in humiliation. God he remembered that all so clearly now, just when he had finally been able to forget! And now how relevant it was. Well that was probably why they suspected him of being gay, because Sherlock had turned out gay and if they had pretended to be in love all those years ago then who's to say they weren't now? Oh how humiliating!
"John honey there's no need to be defensive, we know now that you're not gay, and even if you were there would be no issue, we support whatever makes you happy, and if that just happens to be another boy..."
"Mother I've got a girlfriend!" John defended with exasperation.
"And that's wonderful!" she assured with a smile. John groaned, shaking his head and sinking farther in his seat with humiliation.
"Ya, it is." John growled, although he only said that to reassure his family, even though he wasn't entirely sure it was true.